The Mentalist: The Three R's
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Lisbon is a young cop on her first undercover mission. Guess who blows her cover. AU set in 1996 San Francisco. Romance/Mystery/Humor. Rated T/M for language and adult situations. Thanks to phoenix2812 for the beautiful cover pic!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So yes, another AU fic to pass yet another hiatus. This fic is partly inspired by the films "Never Been Kissed" and "21 Jump Street," but I've only taken their basic premise, so everything else is mostly my idea. In order for it to be more believable that Lisbon could go undercover as a teenager, I've set it back in 1996. Here you will find a young Lisbon a bit less sure of herself, and a Jane who, while in different surroundings, I think might have missed his true calling in the show we watch today. I'll introduce a few old characters along the way, and hopefully you'll forget we still have a couple of weeks until the next new episode.

**The Three R's**

_**San Francisco, 1996**_

"Have a seat, Officer Lisbon," said her supervisor, Captain Sam Bosco.

Teresa Lisbon, despite the nerves she was feeling inside, moved from her stance of attention to sit, back straight, in the chair across from his desk. She folded her hands in her lap like her mother and the nuns had taught her, her regulation black shoes together, her navy blue San Francisco Police Department uniform crisp and neat. Her dark hair hung in a short bob, just above the collar of her shirt.

Bosco noticed her serious carriage and smiled in hopes of easing her nerves.

"You're not in trouble, Lisbon. Relax."

"Yes, sir," she said, giving him a quick glimpse of a dimple, but not actually relaxing, he could tell.

"I'm curious, Lisbon. Where do you see yourself in say, ten years?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "Well, sir, I'd like to be where you're sitting."

He smiled. "Good answer—one I hoped to hear." He sat back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully.

"You've been out of the Academy for what—two years?" He glanced down at a file on his desk, and she could just make out her last name on the label.

"Yes, sir."

"I've asked around about you, Lisbon. Heard some promising things. Very promising. You've handled yourself well, with the recent rash of drug-related murders plaguing our city. Been in on some of the arrests too. Sergeant Cluny gives you high marks. "

"That's good to hear, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I have a job for you, but it will require you to step out of your comfort zone a bit. And I hope you won't be offended when I tell you that while you have shown yourself to be a capable officer, it's your youthful appearance that has clinched this assignment for you."

"Sir?" she said, confused.

"Tell me, Lisbon, what did you think of high school?"

She was startled by the question, but tried not to show it.

Against her will, flashes of the Catholic girls' school she'd attended flashed through her mind. She hadn't been exactly popular—a band geek, because she loved jazz; track because she'd hated playing with the catty girls on the basketball team. Her father had been an alcoholic, so she hadn't been much into the party scene. Besides, looking out for her younger brothers and keeping them out of trouble didn't leave much time for her to get into her own. When her father had killed himself two days after her eighteenth birthday, the rest of her senior year had been pretty much a painful blur. She'd become even more of a loaner, and when she'd become legal guardian of her brothers, any spare time had gone to working two part-time jobs to support them.

"It was fine, sir," she replied, pushing those unpleasant memories aside.

He looked skeptical, having read her personal history, but he didn't question her understatement.

"Good, because you, Officer Lisbon are getting the chance many dream of but few ever get. You're going back to high school."

She couldn't hide the brief glint of panic in her eyes, but Bosco noted how quickly she suppressed it. He admired her stoicism. While he'd give anything to go back to his glory days on the high school football field, not to mention the willing cheerleaders—somehow he didn't think Lisbon was anxious to relive her own experience. But there was nothing for it. Before she could fully react, however, Bosco's tone grew serious.

"Two kids from Bay Vista Academy have died within the last two weeks smoking ice."

"Crystal meth," Lisbon said, nodding.

"Yes. This isn't the run-of-the-mill stuff you can get on the streets though. It's a highly addictive, powerful concoction—worst we've seen. We need to find out who's making it, and who's selling it to the kids. We've had no luck with undercover cops in the area. No one's talking—they smell the cops a mile away. We need someone to go deeper, get to the kids in the know. Only way that can happen is for another kid they deem trustworthy gets welcomed into the fold. And SFPD certainly doesn't want the liability of using a real nark kid on this."

"And you want me to pass myself off as a meth user? To high school kids?"

He smirked a little. "You don't think you can do it?"

"No—I mean, yes, sir. Well, to be honest, Captain, I wasn't exactly part of the in crowd in high school. I was actually sort of a…nerd."

Bosco smiled. "Perfect. We didn't release this to the press, but turns out the two kids who died had been first-time drug users. Never partied before, according to their peers. They were desperate kids who just wanted to fit in, to be popular. So, sounds like you might fit the bill, if you think you can handle the emotional beating of going back in time, that is."

This could jumpstart her career in a big way, Lisbon realized. Infiltrate a population, collect information, break up a drug ring. But best of all, maybe she could prevent another kid from dying.

"I can handle it, sir," she said, jumping in with both feet.

"From all accounts, I believe you can. But you won't be completely alone in this. You'll have backup."

He was looking past her to his glass door, and he motioned for someone to come in.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" said Officer Kimball Cho.

He walked inside and stood next to the chair by Lisbon. She looked over at him in surprise. She'd only spoken to the man in passing, and his demeanor was cold, unreadable, though he'd been polite enough. He was a man of few words. _Very_ few words. She knew he was just out of the Police Academy, two years behind her in her career. Now he was to be her partner.

"Yes, Cho, sit down."

He sat on the edge of the seat, then nodded briefly to Lisbon.

"Cho here will be the school's new security officer. You get into a jam, he'll come running, with the added bonus of being able to carry a gun."

Bosco had obviously already filled Cho in. Lisbon looked back at Bosco, openly displaying her uncertainty for the first time since she'd sat down.

"Don't worry, Lisbon, you're in good hands. Cho is a veteran of Desert Storm, and he was in the Special Forces for three years. Not to mention the fact that if the drug movement into the school originates from gang members, as we suspect, Cho was in a gang in Oakland before he went into the Army, so he'll be a valuable resource."

She caught Cho's eyes again, and found them to be quietly confident and suddenly reassuring. She gave him a small smile, and she was pleased to see a brief sparkle appear in his dark eyes before it vanished just as quickly. Maybe the man wasn't such a cold fish after all. Cho, it would seem, had hidden depths.

Bosco noticed the brief exchange between the two young officers, and nodded to himself in satisfaction. Twenty years in law enforcement had given him insight into who would work well together and who would not. Instinct told him that this oddly matched pair would be a good fit. He moved aside Lisbon's personnel file and handed her the one underneath.

"This is a copy of the fake records we've sent to the school. Since you attended high school and college in Chicago, you shouldn't be likely to run into anyone you know here. Your information is very similar to what we obtained from your old school, so it shouldn't be hard to remember your new persona."

She opened the file folder and gave the first page a cursory scan. He was letting her keep her real name.

"I'm a senior?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Yes. The dean of the academy knows what we're doing, but none of the rest of the faculty have been informed, so you'll have to stay in character around everyone, especially your teachers. But it's the kids who will be able to spot a fake a mile away, so this is where your acting skills will need to be flawless."

"Yes, sir," she said. _I can do this_, she said to herself, though her heart was racing now with the enormity of what she was being entrusted to do. Then another thought occurred to her.

"Is this a co-ed high school?" she asked.

"Yes. Will that be a problem, Miss Girls' School?"  
"No, sir. Actually, it's somewhat of a relief. Teenage girls can be real—"

"Bitches?" He suggested. He chuckled when she nodded in agreement. "I remember," he said.

He turned to Cho.

"I've gone over the case with you, so you can bring Lisbon up to speed with the details. Your uniforms should be delivered today, and I'm giving you the weekend off to prepare and wrap your minds around your new personas. Any questions?"

"No sir," they answered in unison, though Lisbon was sure she'd have a ton of them once she'd had a minute to think.

"Good. I expect daily reports on your progress. I can't emphasize enough how much we're counting on you two to get to the bottom of this. Kids' lives are at stake, and understandably, parents in the community are scared and anxious for the department to do something about it. The mayor is really applying the pressure on top of that. Now, go home. Immerse yourselves in the case files. Work out together how you're going to handle things. I'll see you back here in a week with a progress report. We'll decide what to do from there."

"Yes sir," they replied again.

Bosco's desk phone rang, and he waved them out the door as he answered it. They were on their own.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outside Bosco's office, Lisbon tried to gauge Cho's state of mind, but to no avail.

"Let's get coffee," she suggested.

"Okay."

They left the precinct station and walked to a nearby park. They bought two coffees from a food truck and sat across from each other at a picnic table, the ever-present breeze from the distant bay blowing Lisbon's dark hair into her face. She pushed it behind her ears in annoyance. Cho's military cut stayed stubbornly in place.

"Why us?" she began, voicing what she'd wondered since Bosco had told her the assignment.

"It's obvious with you," said Cho.

"What? Why?"

"You look like you're about fifteen."

She frowned. "I do not. I'm twenty-five years old."

He shrugged, but didn't argue, just sipped at his plain black coffee.

Lisbon shook two sugar packets into her cup, stirring idly with a red plastic swizzle stick.

"I guess your background explains why Bosco picked you, but, no offense, there are much more experienced cops on the force…"

"This isn't a war zone," said Cho dryly. "It's a private prep school."

She gave a small snort. "You obviously don't remember much about high school."

Cho smirked. "Well, the truth of the matter is, with all the recent gang violence on the streets, they can spare two of the least experienced cops to do some cushy undercover job. Not very flattering, but it is what it is."

She supposed he had a point. "Still, they must have had some faith in our abilities to trust us not to screw it up."

"I guess."

"Your confidence is underwhelming," she said in amusement.

And then he rewarded her with a full-on dimpled smile, which he quickly hid behind his white Styrofoam cup.

Oddly enough, Lisbon felt ten times better.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monday morning arrived, and Lisbon was in a panic reminiscent of her most horrid first day of school some seven years before. She was convinced she was in a nightmare, wherein she was doomed to repeat high school for all eternity. The uniform for Bay Vista Academy was eerily similar to the one she'd worn to Sacred Heart Catholic School for Girls back in Chicago, making her déjà vu complete.

She stood before her bedroom mirror, staring at the awkward girl she had once been. The red and blue plaid skirt came just below her knees (unlike the taller girls she remembered, who looked much more fashionable with the hem just above) and the white button-up blouse was crisp beneath the navy blue, crested cardigan. She'd purchased a new pair of red Keds and white bobby socks, hoping these were still the appropriate accessories. She'd been tempted to buy a matching headband, but chose to wait to see what the girls at her new school were wearing.

"Dear Lord," she muttered to her reflection, "it's like I've really gone back in time."

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the mission, but she knew how girls could be, especially to the new kid, and the weight of having to fit in with strangers suddenly felt like an anvil upon her shoulders. She not only had to find a way to gain their confidence, but she also had to get them to include her in their outside activities. No small fete with teenagers, who were infinitely judgmental and conscious of everyone's firm place within the school caste system. At least the uniform would hide the fact that Lisbon had come from a working class family in an unfashionable side of Chicago.

"You can do this," she repeated to herself for the hundredth time since Friday. She slung her new backpack over one shoulder and went out to her Mustang.

_At least my car is cool,_ she thought morosely.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon had the sinking feeling she was late as she entered Bay Vista Academy. Cho was already there, wearing his private security firm uniform, standing casually just inside the school entrance. She purposefully ignored him and headed in the direction of the Main Office.

"You're late," said the school secretary. "Class begins promptly at 8:30."

"I'm sorry," Lisbon said, flushing in embarrassment, "traffic…"

The woman raised an eyebrow, having heard that excuse a time or two, but didn't comment further as she handed Lisbon her class schedule.

"Your first period is English, with Mr. Jane. Down the hall and to your left-Room 103."

"Thank you."

"Leave home a little earlier tomorrow, dear" she warned more kindly. The middle-aged woman had the usual air of self-importance that most long-time school secretaries had-they knew full well that the school couldn't run without them.

"Yes, ma'am," Lisbon said obediently, almost slipping and calling her _Sister. _

With that thought, she murmured The Lord's Prayer to herself and walked down the silent hallway before stopping in front of Room 103. She peeped inside the rectangular window in the door, wondering if she should knock or attempt to slip in quietly.

The teacher—Mr. Jane, she presumed—was already speaking animatedly to his students, and she heard them laugh at something he'd said. She could only see the back of his blonde head above a nicely tailored suit coat and realized this might be her only chance to sneak in, so she carefully turned the knob. The door was locked.

"Dammit," she murmered, closing her eyes in an attempt to calm herself.

When she opened them again, she was surprised to find herself face to face with her new English teacher, the glass window still between them. She gasped and took an involuntary step back. Inside the room, the kids laughed at her expression. Lisbon blushed anew, and met the eyes of the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. His amused smile stretched from ear to ear, showing straight white teeth and crinkling his green eyes compellingly.

_He's your teacher. He's your teacher, _she reminded herself, although he was probably only a few years older than her.

He opened the door, and she found herself right where she hadn't wanted to be: at the center of attention. Immediately, heads went together and instead of laughter, she heard the faint buzzing of excited whispers. Infinitely worse than laughter. Given the fact that all the girls were wearing knee socks and Mary Jane's, she had no doubt she'd already failed her first fashion test. _Shit._

"Class, please welcome our new student," Mr. Jane was saying. "Come in and join us, Miss-?"

"Lisbon," she replied. "Teresa Lisbon."

He led her to an open desk on the front row. _Great. _She'd have no way to observe the other students up here.

She set her backpack on the floor beside her chair and prayed now that he would let her be and continue with his lesson. But apparently God wasn't taking calls this morning.

"Aw, Lisbon," said Mr. Jane dramatically. "The most beautiful city in Portugal. You're not from there, are you? Because I'd love to get the chance to practice my Portuguese..."

The class tittered as he winked at them.

"Uh, no," said Lisbon, willing her voice not to quaver. "I'm from—"

"Guess, Mr. Jane!" interrupted a girl from behind her.

Mr. Jane tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'm pretty good with accents," he explained to Lisbon. "And while I've only heard three words of your tongue's utterance, I'd say you are from…Chicago, right?"

The class seemed to hold its collective breath.

"That's right," Lisbon replied, startled.

His students applauded. _This man is an entertainer_, Lisbon realized, using her own powers of insight. _He has these kids in the palm of his hand, hanging on his every word. Almost like they've been hypnotized…_

Mr. Jane gave her a knowing smile, as if he'd read her very thoughts.

"Well, welcome to San Francisco, Miss Lisbon. Our pizza isn't that great, but the scallops are to die for."

Then, to her immense relief, he seemed to pick up the thread of his former lecture, while at the same time moving gracefully across the room to a bookshelf. He snared a small paperback volume from a stack, _The Importance of Being Earnest, _and placed it gently on her desk.

"This play is Oscar Wilde's comedic masterpiece," he was saying. "One about romance, ruses"—here, he shot Lisbon a mysteriously pointed look—"and repartee." He waggled his eyebrows comically. "My favorite Three R's."

He delved further into the plot, then, to Lisbon's horror, he began assigning parts for the students to read aloud in class.

"Miss Lisbon," he said, and her spine stiffened. "You shall play the lovely Cecily, who falls hopelessly and obliviously in love with the lying rake, Algernon. Are you up to the challenge, Teresa?"

Was it her imagination, or was there some sort of double meaning in his question?

"I'll do my best," she said.

"Good. Now that we've filled all the parts, let's open your books to the beginning of Act I…"

The rest of the period passed quickly, much to Lisbon's surprise. Except for the fact that Mr. Jane insisted they stand while reading their parts, she thoroughly enjoyed herself and the play, actually forgetting for a little while that she herself was playing a part. Occasionally, Mr. Jane would pause to explain some of the Victorian dialogue, or add some witty analysis of the characters. And when the boy who played Algernon had to use the restroom, Mr. Jane filled in briefly, and his delivery of the character's lines had the students overcome with laughter. He seemed to take great pleasure in dramatic gesticulation, his English accent flawless, his comic timing impeccable. And he hadn't even needed to use the book.

Lisbon nearly jumped at the sound of the bell, and she closed her book somewhat reluctantly. Her next class was Geometry. She'd hated Geometry.

"We shall continue the amusing adventures of Jack and Algernon tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen. Don't forget to bring your books with you. Miss Lisbon, may I speak with you a moment?"

Lisbon waited by her desk, a feeling of dread overwhelming her. She watched as Jane spoke a few words to some of the exiting students, patting one or two on the back in praise of their performance. When all of them had left the room and they were finally alone, Jane turned to regard Lisbon. The smile left his face, his eyes draining of their former warmth as he leaned with deceptive casualness against the front of his large oak desk. He crossed his arms over his vest in what she could only describe as vaguely threatening.

"Now, Miss Lisbon," he said softly, staring directly into her eyes. "Would you mind telling me who the hell you _really_ are?"

**TBC**

**A/N: So, what do you think?** **Please log in and let me know. And a special thank-you to my fellow Mentalistas on Twitter, for being my sounding boards. I may not use all of your ideas, but tweeting with you helps me think and spurs my imagination. You guys are amazing!**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow! I really was so amazed at how many of you have taken to this story. I mean, I've had some off-the-wall ideas before…But thank you so much for your confidence. This chapter picks up the moment after the last one ended. I hope you like it.

**Chapter 2**

Several responses went through Lisbon's mind, the first of which was to evade. But Mr. Jane seemed like the kind of man who wouldn't just let this go. He'd ask other teachers or the secretaries in the office about her, and that would put her on their radar, stir their suspicions. She could lie, but he probably wouldn't take her word for it, and there would likely be the same result as the first option.

She felt like a failure. Not an hour on the job and her cover was blown? How the hell could she ever hold her head up at the precinct again? Bosco would buck her back down to writing parking tickets. There had to be some way to salvage this.

Jane seemed to care about his students, and therein might be her saving grace. He was watching skeptically as the emotions played across her face, as she struggled to decide how she was going to answer him, while in the back of her mind, she heard an invisible clock ticking. She was going to be late for her second class, dammit.

She briefly closed her eyes, just as she had before she'd put her hand on the doorknob to his classroom.

"I'm with the San Francisco Police Department," she said, exhaling her held breath on the last syllable.

Jane dropped his hands from their threatening pose.

"A cop," he repeated. It wasn't a question. On the contrary, it seemed to confirm what he'd already been thinking. She reached for her backpack to dig out her badge, but he put a hand up to forestall her.

"I believe you," he said. "This is about those two dead children, isn't it?"

_Who the hell __**was**__ this guy?_

"Yes," she said. "How-?"

"Why else would they send an undercover cop to impersonate a teenager at this school?"

She looked around her, then took a few steps closer to him, pointedly lowering her voice. She was grateful that apparently this was his planning period, since students were filing in to overhear or interrupt them. This close to him, however, his cologne was distracting enough. She quietly cleared her throat.

"You can't tell anyone—I mean _no one_. For my safety, for the safety of your students, you have to keep this confidential. If other teachers know, if other students, they'll treat me differently, tipping off any possible suspects. Do you understand what I'm saying, Mr. Jane?"

He was quiet as he considered her. "I get it," he said at last. "Who else knows?"

"Only the dean," she said. She decided not to mention Cho. "And by the way, if you do tell anyone, I'll advise my captain that we pursue obstruction of justice charges against you, and anything else I can think of."

His lips quirked at the corners. "Yes Miss Police Officer, ma'am."

He was mocking her, but she chose not to take the bait. "I'm glad you realize the gravity of the situation."

He turned instantly serious. "Believe me, I do. It's about time the police started taking this seriously. Personally, I'd like to wrap my hands around the necks of whoever gave those kids the drugs.

"Of course we're taking this seriously," she said in annoyance. "The department's stretched pretty thin right now is all."

He gave a noncommittal noise that sounded vaguely like "Meh." Then, more clearly: "How can I help?"

She pondered this a moment. "The main thing I need now is information. Did you know the kids who died?"

"No, not personally. I knew who they were, but never taught them in class. I'm not the only English teacher, though—Mrs. Hightower has the other half."

Lisbon nodded. Bay Vista was a small, exclusive school, so she imagined everyone knew everyone else here. Such a close-knit group was also the likely reason for all the secrecy. No one wanted to rat out their friends.

"Do you have any suspicions of what group of kids might have been involved with obtaining the drugs?"

He nodded. "Yes, but no proof. I'm pretty good at reading people, at knowing when others are trying to hide things." His ironic smile returned as he looked at her, and she blushed sheepishly. She'd certainly discovered this skill of his first hand.

"Then maybe we can talk more about this after school." Just then, the tardy bell rang; Lisbon was officially late for second period.

"Crap," she muttered. This wasn't the way to stay under the wire.

"I'll write you a note." Jane grinned and moved to his desk to retrieve an admit slip. He signed it with a flourish, then held it out to her. But before she could take it, he held fast to a corner of the yellow paper. Their eyes met as she tugged vainly at it.

"I'll keep your secret, Miss Lisbon. That _is_ your real name, I assume?"

"Yes." She wondered why he seemed to find that so humorous, while at the same time his blue-green gaze rested on her face so intensely she felt like he was physically caressing her.

He released the yellow slip and she took it, nervously creasing it between her fingers

"Thank you," she said, both for the note and his promised silence.

"I'll see you after school, then," he said.

"Not here," she told him, her eyes drifting to the windowed door.

He raised an amused eyebrow. "Somewhere more…_clandestine_ perhaps? The boiler room? Behind the bleachers? The girls' restroom?"

She felt her lips lose their battle with a smirk, captivated by the mischief in his eyes.

"I don't know—"

"How 'bout I find you," he suggested mysteriously.

"Okay. But—"

"Be discreet. I know. Cloak and dagger and all that."

"Well, then," she said awkwardly. With that, she turned to leave, hitching her backpack over her shoulder. She felt him watching her all the way out the door.

"Have a good day," he called cheerily after her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Lisbon finally found her Geometry class down the hall, she entered as quietly as she could. Miss Shettrick's back was to the class as she stood at the chalkboard, detailing some proof that Lisbon could barely understand. She set the admit slip on her teacher's desk and tiptoed slowly down an aisle, heading directly for—she thanked God—a seat in the back row.

Her walk between the other desks seemed to take forever, and she felt the curious gazes of her classmates, especially the boys, as she slid quietly into the open desk. Just as she sat down, Miss Shettrick turned and saw her.

"You must be our new student," she said politely. "What's your name, dear?"

"Teresa Lisbon."

"Welcome to Bay Vista," she said. "Were you enrolled in Geometry at your last school?"

"Yes, ma'am, but I'm afraid I don't remember much."

A few of the other students laughed in understanding. Miss Shettrick shot them a withering glance and they quieted immediately.

"Well, we'll try to catch you up. I'll get you a textbook in a few minutes. In the meantime, watch today's lesson and maybe something will come back to you."

The example problems did look familiar, but Lisbon knew it would take more than a few weeks to catch her up; she'd never been a math person. The girl sitting across from her must have noticed her perplexed expression.

"I don't get this stuff either," whispered the redhead sympathetically. "I usually get my boyfriend Wayne to help me with my Geometry homework."

"Maybe I should get a boyfriend too," Lisbon said ironically, frowning at the chalkboard.

"Yeah. They can be good for something." Their eyes met and they chuckled knowingly. Funny how man issues crossed all age barriers.

"Something amusing, ladies?" asked Miss Shettrick in annoyance at the interruption.

"No, ma'am," said the girl. "Teresa and I were just comparing notes."

"Well, no talking while I'm giving a lesson, Grace. You know my rule."

"Yes, ma'am."

They lapsed into respectful silence, but they smiled at each other across the aisle, and settled in for the fascinating world of the Pythagorean Theory. Lisbon, however, found it very difficult to concentrate.

Her mind was still spinning from her encounter with Mr. Jane. She wondered if at this very moment he was gossiping with other teachers in the Teachers' Lounge. She really wanted to believe him, hoped and prayed that her threat of incarceration, along with his concern for his students would keep him from blowing her cover to the rest of the school. She groaned internally when she thought about having to report the day's events to Bosco.

She passed Cho between classes, her eyes flitting hastily away, but feeling once more the comfort of his stoic presence. Cho, however, looked bored out of his mind. He stood in an alcove watching the throngs of boisterous teens, not reacting at all. He sort of reminded her of the guards at Buckingham Palace, she thought, hiding a grin.

Lisbon's next class period was Drama, taught by Miss Frye, a remnant of San Francisco's hippy days, she was sure, complete with long, frizzy hair and a colorful caftan. The school's theatre company was performing the socially conscious _South Pacific_, and Lisbon found herself painting blue-green waves on the backdrop mural. It occurred to her absently that her paint was the exact color of Mr. Jane's eyes.

Despite her attempts to start up conversations with the other painters, the teens seemed suspicious of outsiders, and while they weren't exactly rude, they didn't go out of their way to be polite, either. Lisbon was feeling like an abject failure in her mission, and by lunchtime she was becoming a bit desperate to make friends. And then she saw Grace from Geometry class, who motioned for her to sit beside her and a tall, dark-haired boy.

Lisbon took her tray of sloppy-joe and limp French fries and sat gratefully beside the beautiful girl. Other beautiful girls surrounded her and the boy she introduced as Wayne Rigsby. She soon deduced he was a star basketball player. She met Erica, a senior—dark, sultry, and somewhat predatory if you asked Lisbon. Sarah, on the other hand, was sweet and even more petite than Lisbon. She was a freshman like Grace, and on more than one occasion, Lisbon saw her looking longingly at Wayne. Craig O'loughlin, a senior on the football team, sat next to Erica. There were a few other girls and boys whose names Lisbon didn't catch, though she recognized some of them from her morning classes. In the midst of all the joking around, gossip, and flirtation, Lisbon came to the stunning realization that she was sitting at the popular kids' table. It was like some surreal dream she might have had when she was actually in high school.

"So, what do you think of Bay Vista so far, Teresa?" asked Grace, munching on an apple slice.

Lisbon shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Everyone seems cool, I guess. The teachers are nice," she offered lamely.

"Oh, you have morning English don't you," said Erica. "God, you're so lucky. You get to stare at yummy Mr. Jane for fifty minutes. What I wouldn't give to get him alone behind the bleachers for ten minutes," she opined, licking her lips suggestively.

"I doubt if he'd be interested even if you got him there," added Wayne.

"Shut up, Wayne," admonished Grace. "Poor man. I wouldn't blame him if he never looked at another woman again."

"Why?" Lisbon heard herself asking, finding that she was holding her breath a little as she awaited the answer.

Erica warmed to this subject and said, almost ghoulishly. "Two years ago, his wife was murdered down in Malibu. She was pregnant at the time."

Lisbon's eyes grew round. "Did they catch who did it?" she asked.

"Some sicko serial killer guy. What was he called, Wayne? Red something?"

"Red John," supplied the boy, taking the uneaten half of Grace's sandwich from her tray and stuffing it in his mouth. She swatted him in annoyance. "Mr. Jane caught him in the act though and shot the guy while he was still in his house," he finished, mouth full. "That was totally badass."

"Why did he kill Mr. Jane's wife?" asked Lisbon. "Usually a serial killer targets a certain type for a specific reason. They kill in the same way, have certain rituals that they—" she paused when she realized the small group was staring at her, eyebrows raised at her macabre knowledge. "I—I watch a lot of cop shows," she stammered.

They returned to their lunches, apparently satisfied with her lame explanation. She'd have to be more careful about slips like that.

"I heard he kinda had a nervous breakdown after that," said Grace sadly. "He just started teaching at Bay Vista this year."

"That's…horrible," said Lisbon. This had all happened just before she'd moved here from Chicago.

"He still wears his wedding ring," added Erica. "Isn't that gruesomely tragic?"

Lisbon tried not to show her disgust at Erica's cavalier attitude toward Jane's obvious pain. She'd notice the gold wedding band earlier, but just in passing, and with vague disappointment that he was taken. Now she had the insane desire to find him and offer some comforting words, or maybe even a hug.

"I think it's sad and romantic," offered Grace. Erica rolled her eyes at the younger girl's sentimentality.

"Well, the point is, he's free now, and I'm sure he's ready to get back in the saddle, if you know what I mean, girls."

Everyone at the table laughed except Lisbon and Grace.

"You'd ride anything with legs, Erica," said Craig with a leer.

Erica punched Craig in the arm as hard as she could, and Craig pretended she'd crippled him for life.

Just then, a girl made her grand entrance into the cafeteria. She had short, platinum-blonde hair with a streak of pink, her plaid skirt hemmed way too high, her white blouse unbuttoned to show a healthy hint of cleavage, the tails knotted beneath her breasts, exposing her flat midriff. She sauntered in on red high-heels, followed closely by a hulking senior Lisbon would bet her badge was on the football team.

"Uh-oh, we've been invaded by a refugee from Slutsville," sneered Erica cattily.

"Who's that?" asked Lisbon.

"Summer Edgecomb," said Grace. "A real party girl, if you couldn't guess by looking at her."

Lisbon wondered how she was getting away with her outfit at the conservative private school.

"Her mom's boyfriend is the assistant dean," supplied Sarah, who had been fairly quiet until then.

_Ah, _Lisbon thought. _That explains it._

"If you ask me," said Erica, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "she was probably there when Drew died."

Lisbon hoped she controlled the jump in her pulse. Andrew Martins was the first boy who'd died from the drug overdose.

It might be a risk to her new-found reputation, but the resident party girl would be most likely to know where to get the drugs around here, especially if she'd been present at the party where that boy had died. She would make a point of engaging Miss Edgecomb later.

Ten minutes later, the bell rang for afternoon classes. Lisbon dumped the contents of her tray in the trash, and allowed Grace and Wayne to show her to the band room. Neither of them played an instrument, so she was left to explain to the band director that while she did in fact play the clarinet, she was probably a bit rusty.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The last period of the day finally came and Lisbon found herself emotionally exhausted. High school was even harder the second time around, especially when she was even more worried than the teenagers about how people perceived her. She welcomed the fact that it was Athletics period—she had so much nervous energy to release, and the track would be a good place to do that. She put on her sweat pants and t-shirt in the girls' locker room, relieved when she saw Grace suited up in her basketball shorts and tank top, taking a seat on the bench beside her to lace up her high tops.

"Basketball eh?" said Lisbon conversationally. "I'd play, but I'm way too short."

"It's not just height, you know; it's skill too."

"I'll stick to the track," she hedged skeptically. The much taller girl gave a smiling shrug.

Lisbon's eye was caught then by two girls she hadn't seen before, their heads together as they whispered by a locker against the far wall. She pretended not to see them, carrying on her conversation with Grace, until one of the girls passed a small plastic bag to the other. Lisbon kept her voice level (she hoped) knowing she might have stumbled upon her biggest lead of the day. They were both wearing t-shirts emblazoned with the girls' basketball logo, and Lisbon knew she had to find out who they were and what they were hiding.

She decided she would go out and run a few laps, then find a way to sneak back inside the gym to see what exactly was in that baggie. If it was crystal meth, she'd hit the jackpot, and she'd quickly try to befriend the two girls. But it wasn't to be, at least not this day.

She reported dutifully to the track coach another girl pointed out to her. He was a tall, rotund man about Lisbon's own age, wearing a red windsuit, baseball cap, and a whistle around his neck. She guessed this must be his first coaching job.

"Coach Smith," she said tentatively, right after he'd ordered a handful of girls to hit the track and give him twenty laps.

He looked down on his new addition, smiling rather insincerely, she thought.

"Aw, a new recruit. It's about time Bertram steered a girl away from basketball. Lisbon, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, you're a little thing, aren't you? That explains it," he gruffed. "You run track before?"

"Yes, sir. Back in Chicago—"

"Good, good. I need you to run cross-country. My only cross-country runner is out with a pulled hamstring, and we've got a meet next week." He nodded in the direction of a wooded area behind the school grounds. "Head through there and you'll find a park that runs along the bay. Keep to the off-pavement paths. You'll be fine. It's pretty safe."

_Pretty safe? _

"Yes, sir," she said, trying not to sound too annoyed by his uncaring attitude as well as her thwarted plans.

"Well, give it a good hour, and you can call it a day."

"Yes, sir," she said, and, looking back regretfully toward the gym, she set off toward the park, warming up with a light jog. As she emerged from the woods and into the outskirts of the park, she picked up speed, her running shoes hitting the unpaved trail with little puffs of dirt, the sound of her heightened breathing in her ears. She had just decided she'd risk doubling back to the gym when the single honk of a horn caught her attention.

On a small rise above the trail was a parking lot, a scattering of vehicles parked there left by other park patrons. She slowed, squinting to see inside a small, light-blue foreign job, where someone seemed to be waving to her through the windshield. He honked once more, and rolled down the window to stick out his head. It was Mr. Jane.

She looked around nervously, then trotted up the hill to the car.

"Get in," said Jane softly, his eyes alight with good humor.

She wondered at the wisdom of this, but since she felt no gut feelings of alarm where he was concerned, she went round to the passenger side and did as he'd asked.

"I'm not going to kidnap you and have my way with you," he said, the moment she closed the door. His eyes were laughing at her, and she found it once again very disconcerting that he could read her so well.

There was no explaining the rapid jump in her heartbeat, however—especially since she knew it wasn't from fear.

"I think you're pretty harmless," she said bravely, although she remembered Wayne Rigsby's assertion that he was a badass with a gun. _Only with serial killers, _she thought, finding that she felt inordinately proud of what he'd done.

"Hm," was his noncommittal reply.

"How'd you know I'd be here?" she asked suspiciously.

"I got a look at your schedule in the office. I figured Reede Smith would put you in place of the cross-country girl he just lost since there's a track meet next week. This is where he sends his cross-country girls to run, the unfeeling bastard. I wouldn't want a daughter of mine running alone in this park. He's always begging for more girls to join his team, but he's such an ass no one's jumping to join it—literally."

"He seems to be a real prick," she said without thinking. She blushed. "Sorry. Not very professional of me."

"Don't worry; you're very professionally accurate." He smiled and she was helpless not to return it. A comfortable awareness filled the little car, and they were quiet a moment, their eyes drawn to the view beyond the park of the San Francisco Bay, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. The Oakland Bay Bridge spanned majestically across it in the distance.

"So," she said finally, "You had some theories you'd like to share about our possible drug dealers?"

"Yes. I can narrow it down to three that I'm fairly certain were present when Andrew Martins died: Summer Edgecomb, Dumar Tanner, and Todd Johnson."

"I've already seen Miss Edgecomb. The popular kids characterize her as a party girl."

Jane nodded. "That would be my opinion as well. Major daddy issues with that girl. Dumar—something about that kid. He's off somehow, but can't put my finger on it. Troubled childhood I'm guessing. Todd Johnson-he's a boy with some serious issues. A definite cruel streak. I've seen all of them at one time or another high on something. I've reported my suspicions to Dean Bertram, but he's never done anything about it."

"You have any of them in class?"

"I have Dumar. The others…I've just observed on occasion."

"You're pretty good at that. Have you had profile training or something?"

He grinned. "Not exactly. I was a fake psychic on the carnival circuit as a kid. I learned how to read people in order to get them to give me money. Let's just say I was highly motivated to become very good at it. But in the end, it's just paying attention, that's all."

"It's an amazing gift," she said sincerely. "Government agents train for years to obtain your level of observational skills."

"Well," he began, then stopped at that. Her assessment seemed to embarrass him a little. He was quiet again for a minute or two, then Jane's smile returned and he said brightly, "So, how was your first day of school?"

She frowned. "Almost as bad as my _orginal_ first day," she grumbled honestly.

He chuckled. "Aw, you are proving the old adage that the more things change, the more things stay the same."

"More like, you can take the geek out of the high school…"

He glanced at her sidelong. "That's your inner child speaking, Miss Lisbon. You know as well as I do that most of these so-called _popular_ kids won't be able to get over the fact that they will never have this level of popularity in their adult lives. They'll always be pining away for their perceived glory days, will always feel like they've been denied their rightful place in the world. Whereas geeks like you will end up becoming their bosses someday."

She laughed, knowing he was right. "Still, high school makes such an impact on our psyches that I defy any adult to go back to high school without feeling like quivering masses of adolescent insecurity."

"You're probably right," he conceded. "But look at you now…hanging out with the in crowd. You never sat at the popular table in the cafeteria did you?"

She wondered how he knew about that. Had he been spying on her?

"No. And I have to say, my inner child was giving my psyche a high-five today."

They smiled, enjoying their droll conversation. When had this turned from her undercover mission to something so entirely enjoyable, and even personal? It most certainly had to be due to Mr. Jane. After all, this was the first time since she broke up with her fiancé in Chicago that she'd found anyone so…compelling. He was funny, intelligent, insightful, and the most beautiful man she'd ever met in person. She wouldn't be human if she—

"This isn't what I expected to happen when I got up this morning," said Jane dryly, mirroring her thoughts.

"Me neither."

She met his eyes, finding herself quickly lost in their hidden depths. She thought of his dead wife and child, and a flash of pity flitted across her face. She felt her cheeks turn rosy as she remembered her earlier desire to comfort him. She hastily looked away.

He frowned. "You've heard things about me, haven't you?"

"It's none of my business," she said. "You know how kids talk."

"Yes I do," he said softly. "Maybe I'll tell you the whole story someday."

"That's not necessary."

"It might be," he said.

She didn't even want to ponder what that might mean, but she felt the uncomfortable urge to change the subject.

"I need to get back to the school," she said. "I was planning to double back and hopefully avoid Coach Smith so I could sneak into the gym."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I saw two girls making some sort of exchange in the locker room. I'd like to find out who they are and see what's in the bag they passed. I think they're on the basketball team."

"Describe them."

She did and he gave her two names.

"I think they're probably clean, but you saw what you saw," he said. "I'd give you a lift back, but…"

"Yeah." She understood. No one could see her arriving at school in a teacher's car when she was supposed to be training for cross country.

"Well, thanks anyway. And thanks for the information. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Jane."

Her hand went to the door handle, and she tried lifting it, but she couldn't manage it.

"Sorry," he said, leaning across her body so he could maneuver the handle himself. "Old Bessy here can be a little touchy. You have to finesse her just so."

_No double entendre with that statement, _she thought, flushing.

She had an overwhelming moment in which she smelled his cologne, felt the warmth of his side against her chest, gazed wide eyed into the natural highlights of his curls. If he were to turn just a fraction…She tensed, holding her breath until the door finally clicked open, and he pushed her back farther into the seat at the same time he pushed the door open wider for her. The moment he moved back to his seat again she was out of the car like a shot.

"Thanks again," she said, but she wasn't sure he'd heard her over the slamming of the door.

She hit the ground running, breathless before she'd even begun.

High school had never been _this_ exciting.

**A/N: Well? Hope you are still liking this. Please log in and let me know. Next chapter I will delve into Jane's point of view. See you back here soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I had an unexpected day off from school today, so here is the newest chapter, a bit earlier than I anticipated. This also means I am behind once again on review replies. I hope the chapter makes up for it, and that you still know how much your kind words have meant to me.

**Chapter 3**

It had been an understatement, what he'd told her about not expecting this. On the contrary, he had found sanctuary in a life measured out in predictable increments, governed by bells, where he knew what to do every hour of the day (the nights were a different story, however). It had been a comfort to him that for a while each day, he could almost forget what he had lost.

And then change had literally shown up at his door to disturb his carefully laid routine, in the guise of wide emerald eyes set in an enchanting elfin face.

When Patrick Jane had opened his classroom door that morning, he had been immediately, unexpectedly smitten…and almost immediately ashamed. _This is a student_, he had quickly reminded himself. But as the class period wore on, he began to hone in on a few small but important details about Teresa Lisbon. She had looked decidedly out of place, and not just in the way a kid normally would on her first day in a new school. She might have seemed awkward and unsure of herself, but it wasn't because she was a teenager; it was because she _wasn't_.

It was with great relief that he noticed the corner of her eyes had the beginnings of small crow's feet. Wrinkles from the natural aging process would have begun to show long after age eighteen. Between her brows were barely noticeable frown lines, which she had likely acquired after years of drawing them together when she was annoyed or tense. He'd given her a lead role in the play so that he might study her more closely without arousing suspicion. It wasn't long before he realized that, by the way she held herself, by the lilt of her voice, by her easy, unfidgeting stance, that she had a maturity that only came from adulthood.

To many (especially those unfamiliar with teenagers), these qualities would have been difficult to spot, and whoever had picked this young woman to go undercover as a teen had chosen well. She must have been highly skilled and trusted to have been given such a weighty responsibility though, Jane thought. He was thoroughly intrigued by her, and though he must have seemed abrasive in his interrogation after class, that was the only way he'd known to be certain. But it was with mixed emotions that he found that he had been right about her. He was relieved that here was nothing immoral in his attraction to Teresa Lisbon, but it certainly wasn't as simple as that.

For the first night in two years, he had lain awake pondering something other than the ghastly image of his wife's mutilated body: Teresa Lisbon, undercover cop. Just thinking about her made him smile. He recalled her well-toned calves above the ridiculous bobby socks, the gentle curve of her bottom beneath the form-fitting sweatpants as she jogged away from him that afternoon, the wavy bob of her hair bouncing with each step. He was surprised that he didn't feel guiltier in his admiration. He was still a young man—only twenty-eight—too young not to appreciate a beautiful woman. He'd loved Angela, missed her and their unborn daughter terribly every day since their murders, and up until this point he'd successfully pushed aside his body's basic urges in order to wallow in his grief.

But maybe, he thought, this was a sign that it was time to have a life outside those rigid class periods. Teaching had helped him to heal, had made him think about something other than his pain, had given him a reason to get out of bed every day. If he hadn't had a job that he loved so much, he might have given up completely. Meeting Teresa Lisbon had opened his mind to the possibility that he could move on, but first he had to let go of the past. Beneath the covers, his left thumb worried the golden band on his finger.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"What do you think of the new girl?" asked Madeleine Hightower as she poured herself a cup of strong coffee. Jane stood at the counter in the Teacher's Lounge before First Period, dunking his teabag absently.

"She seems bright enough," he said.

"Well, that's good. The last two new kids I've gotten have been real winners. It's like they've never picked up a book before."

He knew just what she meant. He shrugged. "They have money—what do they need with an education?"

She smirked, then she noticed how unusually distant he appeared, how pensive. "You seem a bit sullen today. Anything wrong, Patrick?"

He gave her a halfhearted smile. "Not at all. I didn't sleep well last night."

Madeleine was probably his closest friend on the teaching staff at Bay Vista, and he'd confided in her a little over drinks occasionally. But she had recently married and she hadn't had much time for their friendly chats lately. Her soulful brown eyes clouded with concern. She'd seen him when he'd have bad days from time to time, and though he'd always put on a good show for his students, she knew it took everything in him to keep himself together sometimes.

"You know, I can cancel my date with the hubby tonight; we could go to that Chinese place—"

"No, no. Don't change your plans. I'm just…thinking about things."

She looked around as Reede Smith and the girls' basketball coach, Ray Haffner came in for their morning coffee. Jane grinned at them, but only Haffner gave a polite hello. Madeline lowered her voice and, taking Jane's arm, steered him out of the lounge and walked beside him down the empty hall toward their classrooms.

"Maybe you shouldn't be alone tonight. I know this really nice girl from church who—"

He chuckled, holding up his hand. "Madeline, I appreciate your concern, but actually, I think you might be right. Maybe it _is _time I started thinking about dating."

Her face brightened. "Really?"

"Yeah. But let me do it in my own way, okay?"

They stopped in front of Jane's classroom, and he brought his blue teacup to his lips.

"Sure, Patrick. Good. This is _very _good. I'm happy for you. And if you decide you'd like to go out with a great person, Susan is available. Jessie says she has great legs…"

"Maybe you're just trying to get her a boyfriend so you can hold onto your husband and his wayward leg fetish," he joked.

She rolled her eyes. "Nice try, but Jessie and I are solid." She paused, and she snapped her fingers. "I know! We could double date!"

He shook his head. She was incorrigible. "Stop making me wish I hadn't told you. _If_ I decide to go out, you'll be the first—well, the _third_ to know, all right?"

She laughed. "Okay, have it your way. I'll see you later."

The first bell rang, and from a distance, they could hear the school's front doors open, and the excited roar of approaching adolescents.

"Ready or not, here they come," she muttered under her breath.

"Have a nice day, Mrs. Hightower," he called pleasantly, propping open his classroom door.

She laughed again and left him at his door, heading down the hallway to her own.

Jane's eyes flitted in the direction from which Teresa Lisbon was most likely to come. He felt a jolt of attraction when he saw her, a head shorter than most of her "classmates" as she glided down the hall to her locker. Teresa was wearing a red headband today, her hair now straight and silky, and caving to peer pressure, she was sporting the much more fashionable knee socks and Mary Jane shoes. His mouth went dry when he noted that she'd hemmed her skirt considerably.

She was still foregoing makeup in an attempt to look younger, Jane saw, but he couldn't help imagining what she might look like if she were dressed like an adult. Maybe in a slinky black evening gown and high heels, smoky color emphasizing her eyes, red gloss shining on her sensual lips. He swallowed a big gulp of tea, burning his tongue.

Grace Van Pelt stopped and said hello to Teresa before going on her way, and Jane felt inordinately pleased that she'd made friends with one of the more popular girls. Hooray for her psyche, he thought in amusement.

"Morning, Mr. Jane," said the first student to arrive, startling his divided attention.

"Good morning, Luther," he said summoning a smile.

The boy was somewhat of a prodigy, having skipped three grades to alight in Senior English, but sometimes he seemed a bit on the socially awkward side. He was one of those kids who felt more comfortable talking to the teacher than to his peers.

Jane welcomed his students one by one, his warm smile coming easily, his heart picking up speed the closer Teresa Lisbon came to his door. Halfway there, he noticed how she glanced at the new security guard, minutely lifted her chin, then purposely looked away.

_Shit,_ he thought. _Him too? Why didn't she tell me?_

It had been no coincidence that they'd shown up at Bay Vista on the same day. He was impressed that she'd successfully kept something from him. He must be slipping.

"How are you this fine morning, Miss Lisbon?" he asked, a knowing sparkle in his eye. She blushed, hating herself for her reaction to him. If she wasn't careful the other students might start talking about it. They were very sensitive to such things, due in part to all their own raging hormones. Not that her hormones were raging or anything.

"Fine, thank you, Mr. Jane," she managed.

She wandered past him and found a seat in the back of the classroom this time, the better to focus on the other students. English went much the same as the day before, Lisbon dutifully reading her part, trying not to look too much at Jane, whom, she noticed, was very openly watching her during her reading.

When the bell rang, Jane purposefully brushed past her, and she felt the light stirring of her cardigan as he slipped something inside her pocket. A few moments later, she stood at her locker and opened it.

_After school. Same place. _

"Love note?" teased Grace, three lockers down.

Lisbon blushed in spite of herself.

"No. Just an English assignment."

Grace noted her heightened color and grinned, then walked beside her to their Geometry class. Lisbon crumpled the yellow Post-it note and put it back into her sweater pocket. Outside the classroom, Grace stopped suddenly in front of a huge, colorful sign. Lisbon didn't think it had been there the day before.

"Hey, you going to the dance Friday night?"

Lisbon was startled. "Uh…I don't know. I really haven't met many people yet."

"That would be a good way to do it," Grace encouraged. "Come with Wayne and me. I'll let him dance with you until someone else gets the guts to ask you."

Lisbon laughed at that mental picture. "It would be like the Jolly Green Giant dancing with Sprout."

They were both laughing as they entered Miss Shettrick's classroom. She was facing the chalkboard when they entered, but upon hearing their laughter, she turned to shoot them an admonishing look. All business, this lady.

At lunchtime, Lisbon purposely hurried her pace when she saw Summer Edgecomb enter the cafeteria line. She fell in right behind the pink-streaked blonde. Near the bins that held the milk cartons, Lisbon tried to sound her coolest.

"I like your hair," she said, and cringed at how lame she probably sounded. So much for cool.

But Summer turned and gave her a smile filled with mischief and amusement, her dark eyes crinkling charmingly.

"Thanks. So, you're the new girl everyone's talking about."

Lisbon looked startled as she picked up her silverware, then promptly dropped it, where it clattered on the industrial tile. "What? Who?"

Summer chuckled softly. "Cool your jets, sweety; I'm just kidding."

Lisbon smiled. The girl had the innate ability to figure out what made someone squirm, but she didn't seem unkind.

"Oh. Well, then you probably have heard then-I'm Teresa." Lisbon tossed her first soiled knife and fork into a dishpan of soapy water and retrieved a clean set.

"Summer," she said. "I'd shake your hand, but mine are filled with a tray of slop disguised as lunch." She made a face down at her macaroni and processed cheese product. "You'd think with the cost of tuition in this place, they'd give us something remotely edible." She raised her voice on the last two words so the cooks could clearly hear her. "You from Chicago?" she asked Lisbon in a much lower voice.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"My dad was from there. You sound just like him." Her tone was wistful. Maybe they had something in common and Summer's father wasn't in her life either. Not that she too had daddy issues like Summer did, as Jane had commented the day before.

Lisbon liked this girl in spite of herself. She had what her dad would have called _spunk_. "Nice to meet someone so…real." She glanced around, hoping no one else had overheard.

"Yeah, good luck finding anyone not made of plastic in this Barbie Dream House."

By this time, they'd made it through the line and Summer gave Teresa a smile.

"Watch your back around here, Chicago," she said mysteriously. "Later."

"Thanks. Nice meeting you."

For a so-called party girl and recreational drug user, Summer seemed pretty down to earth to Lisbon. In high school, Lisbon reminded herself, sometimes gossip was just gossip.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rest of the day passed very similarly to the first, and Lisbon found herself getting more and more revved up the closer it came to Athletics period. And it wasn't about the cross country practice.

She found Jane in his car, parked in a slightly different part of the park. Large trash bins and a cluster of trees blocked its view from the main road.

She got into his Citroen without hesitation this time, sliding in on the smooth leather seat.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lisbon," said Jane with a twinkle.

"Hi. You have some information for me?" she asked, shutting the door.

"Right to business, eh, Officer?" He smirked. "First, what happened yesterday with your basketball girls?"

"I did double back to the gym, saw the girls busy practicing, so I went back into the locker room-their names were on their lockers. I searched them, looked in their gym bags. No baggies like I'd seen earlier. Nothing suspicious at all."

"Hmm," said Jane. "They must have gotten rid of whatever it was pretty quickly. Maybe sold it to someone else."

"Maybe," conceded Lisbon. "I'll keep an eye on them."

"Your partner, Officer Cho, could be a big help there."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"Sorry you didn't feel like you could trust me, Teresa." He actually sounded a little hurt.

"This is an official police investigation, Mr. Jane. Just because _my_ cover was blown, I didn't think I had the right to blow Cho's. How'd you find out?"

"I saw you two exchange a glance in the hallway."

"So on the basis of one look, you figured out our real relationship?" she said in disbelief.

"_Relationship_?" Jane asked, tensing.

Lisbon colored. "No, not _that_ kind of relationship. We have—Cho and I are just colleagues, and partners on this assignment."

He seemed oddly relieved. "Good. That's what I figured."

"Well, I trust you'll keep his secret, as well," she said.

"Oh, _now_ you're trusting me," he teased.

"Only because I have to, Mr. Jane."

"So what did your boss say when you told him your cover was blown?" Jane asked curiously.

Her lips tightened and she turned her attention to the distant bay. She was still mad at herself and also unaccountably so at Jane for seeing through her so quickly.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" he guessed.

"No. Not yet."

She was afraid to look like a rookie in the eyes of her boss. Her decision not to tell might come back to bite her in the ass, but she had some pretty good leads right now, was starting to befriend some of the students. A few more days likely wouldn't hurt anything. Or so she hoped.

"Don't worry, Miss Lisbon, I have a feeling you'll get to the bottom of this in no time. With my help, of course."

"Not a very modest man, are you?" she said, smiling wryly.

He shrugged. "Can I help it if I'm an expert on human behavior?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Anyway," he continued, changing the subject. "When I told you the girls' names from the locker room, I didn't know one of their last names, remember? I guess you know it now."

"Yeah. Martins. Saw it on her gym bag as well as her locker. Same as the boy's name who died. Any relation?"

"Yes. Her cousin. I've seen Lorelei around, of course, but Madeleine Hightower has her for English."

"Strange she would be buying drugs after seeing what it did to her cousin," commented Lisbon.

"Indeed," said Jane.

"What do you know about her?"

"I talked to Madeleine about her this afternoon. Lorelei has a single mother; father isn't in the picture, apparently. But Lorelei is very bright. She's at Bay Vista on scholarship. I haven't heard much about her before this. Apparently she works out with the basketball team but never plays in the games. Coach Haffner says she's a pretty good player-aggressive, but very shy about performing before an audience. He doesn't have the heart to kick her out of practice, says she helps put his girls through their paces."

"Interesting. So, if you didn't find out all this about Lorelei until this afternoon, what was that note about?"

_I just wanted to see you, to talk to you,_ Jane thought immediately. But that was only partly true, he supposed. He did have some information, of a sort.

"Rumor has it that something's going down at the dance Friday night."

Lisbon's eyes widened. "Oh? What?"

"Well, I read some lips across the room today, and some kids were whispering about getting some _good shit _at the dance, as they so delicately put it."

_Good Lord,_ she thought sarcastically. _The man reads lips too? Why the hell isn't he working for the FBI or something?_

"No clue what, specifically?"

"No. High-schoolers talk in a code sometimes even _I _can't decipher."

"I already have an invitation to go, so I suppose I'll make an appearance," she told him.

"A date already, Miss Lisbon? You move fast."

"No, actually, I'm an official third wheel to Grace Van Pelt and Wayne Rigsby."

He wondered again at his relief in hearing her lack of attachment.

"And as it happens, I already committed to being a chaperone, so I guess I'll see you there," he told her.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Lisbon felt the years fall away, and she was back in high school once more, her heart leaping at the thought of the cute boy she was crushing on showing up at the school dance. She swallowed and looked away.

Jane, meantime, was having similar thoughts. He hadn't had the typical high school experience as a carney kid, but he'd seen enough movies to know what such occasions meant to a teenager, in addition to his many nights studying adolescent behavior at school functions. Now, he found the entire situation rather confusing. He was attracted to a woman who looked like a girl, pretending to be his student. He was still dealing with all kinds of feelings regarding his wife, yet he found he longed for feminine companionship beyond his fellow teachers.

Maybe he was going through some sort of second childhood, he thought in amusement: hormones racing. Emotions in an uproar. His thoughts consumed by the cute girl in First Period English.

"Well, thanks again," said Lisbon finally. "I'll uh, see you in class tomorrow."

She struggled briefly with the door handle, but was able to open it herself this time. It had been nice yesterday, brushing against her warm body, and he regretted that she'd paid attention to how he'd opened it.

"See you, Teresa. And don't forget to do study for your quiz over _The Importance of Being Earnest,_" he reminded her in his best teacher voice.

She returned his grin. "I'm sure I'll ace it. I have a great teacher."

As he watched her jog away an eerily familiar quote came to mind: _The very essence of romance is uncertainty._

"Oscar Wilde, old boy," Jane said to the empty car. "I think I could learn a thing or two from _you_ about human behavior."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Next chapter, there will be more than one kind of dance. See you there!**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for your continued support of this fic. Your reviews are awesome and inspiring! This chapter is a very strong "T", with some language and a little bit of hanky panky ;) Enjoy.

**Chapter 4**

Thursday night, Lisbon met Cho at a pizza joint near the police station. Bosco expected them early the next morning for a briefing of their progress.

"So," she asked him. "Have you learned anything important?"

"Being a school security guard is boring as hell," he said immediately, then took a long swig of beer.

"It could be worse," she said. "You could have Geometry with Miss Shettrick."

"No. I'm pretty sure I got you beat, hands down. But yeah, I've heard some things." And then she saw the uncharacteristic quirk of his lips. "I've got a new CI."

"Really? Who?"

"Blonde with a pink streak."

"Summer Edgecomb?" she guessed in surprise.

"Yeah. I did a background check. She's eighteen, but has two juvenile priors—solicitation and possession."

"Does she know you work for SFPD?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm just a glorified mall cop to her, but the fact she tipped me off says something."

"Well, what did she tell you?"

"She said I should go to that dance Friday night."

Lisbon nodded. "My source said the same thing."

"Oh?" His dark eyebrows rose.

"Yeah," she said, but didn't elaborate.

His face lost any hint of good humor. "I thought we were partners."

She looked down at her half-eaten slice of pizza in shame.

"Mr. Jane; English teacher," she mumbled.

"So?" Sounded like a good source of information to him.

"So, he _made_ me," she said in anguish. "He took one look at me on my first day of school and knew I was a cop."

"Jesus."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was embarrassed. I didn't want you to see me as an incompetent rookie."

He didn't speak for a moment, and Lisbon felt like she wanted to sink through the floor.

"I don't think that," he said truthfully. "Can you trust him?"

"I think so," she said, cheered a bit that his reaction wasn't as terrible as she'd predicted. "I checked him out too. No priors. Not much of anything, really, except that he's the man who killed Red John."

Something seemed to click in Cho's brain, and his eyes widened slightly in realization. "Jane. Yeah, that's right. I thought his name sounded familiar. I was just getting out of the Army when that went down, but it was all over the news. Poor guy."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So you see, he's a man who knows a bit about justice. He cares about his students, wants these drug dealers out of his school. I swore him to secrecy. I believe he's on the level."

"Good."

Her expression turned pained again. "There's something else…he made _you_, too."

Cho paused a beat as that tidbit sank in. "Is this guy psychic or something?"

She let out an ironic bark of laughter. "He used to be."

Cho didn't even bother to ask. Now he knew exactly how _she_ felt, and the idea of confessing this to Bosco made his stomach clench.

"What do we tell Bosco?" she asked, and Cho wondered vaguely if Jane's psychic gifts were rubbing off on her.

"I won't tell if you won't." He said it in such a way that she might, if she so chose, interpret his words as a joke.

"I won't tell," she said seriously.

They both took fortifying slugs of beer.

"We're supposed to find out information. Kids talk," he said, attempting to justify their actions.

"We can tell him after this is over, after we've caught those dealers," she said.

They made themselves satisfied with this plan.

"Okay," agreed Cho. "Now, should we have backup ready for tomorrow night?"

Lisbon nodded. "Maybe suggest a squad car patrolling near the school, on hand in case we need them, but not visible in case we don't."

Cho gave a sharp nod.

They finished their dinner in relative silence, their pulses still racing at their plan to keep their boss partly in the dark. They both felt they could make a real difference for Bay Vista Academy, but that would be summarily quashed if Bosco found out their covers were blown, of that they had little doubt.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon stared at the clothes piled up on her bed, having tried on every dress in her closet in a vain attempt to pick the perfect outfit. The dance was in two hours. Everything she had was hopelessly out of style or just too grown-up to be appropriate for a high school dance.

In the end, she made a frantic rush to the mall, where she went self-consciously into a junior clothing boutique and looked in dismay at what was fashionable for teenage girls at the moment. Grace had told her it wasn't a formal dance, but it was a rare chance to wear something to a school activity that wasn't plaid. A cute dress or skirt would be fine.

Never a slave to fashion, even when she was a teenager, Lisbon looked at the colorful displays with growing trepidation. She touched the hem of an extremely short mini skirt, fingered the ribbon at the waist of a baby doll dress with more than a hint of apprehension. Had this been a more casual affair, she would have happily worn the flannel shirts and jeans some of the mannequins sported, but she had to make a good impression to maintain the kids' trust. Image was everything to them.

With a sigh, she grabbed a few things off the rack and went to the nearest dressing room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The DJ had been in full swing for a half-hour, and there was no sign of Teresa Lisbon. Jane was uncharacteristically nervous on the inside, though outside he maintained his usual sunny smile and exchanged witty banter with his fellow chaperones. He felt jittery, like a boy on his first date with a beautiful girl, but he knew this was far from a conventional date. For one thing, it would be unseemly to take her into his arms on the dance floor while everyone believed she was a student. For another, they were both on the job tonight, and students' lives were at stake. That sobered him briefly.

The driving beat of some hip-hop song pounding in his ears, Jane made his way to the security guard, who was standing unobtrusively in the shadows, out of the way of the gyrating kids and the pulsating glow. He sincerely hoped no one in the student body had issues with flashing lights.

He had to lean in close to Cho's ear to be heard.

"Where's Miss Lisbon," he asked.

Cho looked extremely annoyed with the question, and Jane's grin returned.

"She'll be here," the fake guard reassured him.

Cho's eyes, Jane saw, were suddenly caught by the arrival of the infamous Summer Edgecomb, wearing a dangerously short skirt, man's white shirt, and scads of costume jewelry ala 1980's Madonna. Her football player posse was right behind her as she headed purposely toward Cho.

"Officer Cho," she called in passing, a suggestive smirk on her bright pink lips.

The man beside Jane tensed but otherwise gave no acknowledgement of the girl's greeting. So, the younger man was attracted to the school tart, Jane thought. But Jane could instantly tell Cho's honor would keep him from acting on it, so he put any concerns aside. And speaking of attraction…

Teresa chose that moment to enter the high school gymnasium, and Jane literally caught his breath. She was wearing a dress that, while perfectly modest in its coverage of her slim body, still looked rather like an undergarment. It was silver and silky, with matching lace at the décolletage and hem. The straps over her sexy shoulders were also made of lace, drawing his eyes to the delicate collarbones and the cross necklace that rested in the hollow at her neck. Her hair hung in loose ringlets and she'd applied a bit of makeup to bring out her eyes. Her slips shone with red tinted lip-gloss, drawing his attention to their innate sensuality. Strappy silver sandals wound about her tiny feet, providing her petite frame with an extra inch of height. While she stood uncertainly in the doorway, it took everything within him not to go to her. His hands balled into fists and he forced his eyes to flit away lest someone catch him staring. He let out his breath in what he hoped was an undetectable sigh of longing.

Grace Van Pelt made her way to Lisbon, and the two young women smiled and laughed, putting their heads together so they could hear over the music. They moved through the throng to where Wayne Rigsby had stationed himself at the refreshment table, Lisbon sparing only a brief glance in Jane and Cho's direction as she passed.

"Damn," Jane muttered in vexation, and Cho must have read his lips, for the younger man's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Jane shrugged and went back to his earlier position at the half-court mark, where he could see the entire gym at once. Madeline Hightower stood there as well, and soon, the tall, prematurely balding dean, Gayle Bertram, joined them in their vigil.

"How the hell can they dance to this racket?" he practically yelled above the din.

"These young whippersnappers always play their beatnik music too loud," Jane replied, straight-faced.

Dean Bertram frowned, unsure whether Jane was mocking him or not. Beside him, Mrs. Hightower hid her laugh behind a cough.

"Well, you two look like you have a handle on things. I'm going home before I go deaf."

Jane gave him a slight salute. "You can count on us, Chief."

Bertram left them with a scowl of general annoyance.

"Someday he's going to fire your ass for insubordination," said Hightower.

"Meh, he's a sanctimonious blowhard. Achievement test scores have risen for English since you and I were hired; neither of us is going anywhere."

Still smiling at his audacity, Hightower merely shook her head.

Jane, despite his attempt to the contrary, couldn't stop his eyes from finding Lisbon in the crowd. She stood a few minutes talking (yelling) with Grace and Wayne, then he watched in fascinated amusement as the first boy to work up the courage came up to ask her to dance. The music had turned abruptly to a slow song—one of Boys II Men's harmonious offerings—and Luther Wainwright stood awkwardly before her. They were roughly the same height.

To her credit, Lisbon gave him a genuine smile, and allowed him to lead her by his predictably sweaty hand to the dance floor. Her small hands rested on the boy's scrawny shoulders; his went lightly to her trim waist, and they swayed and stepped back and forth in time to the music. Jane felt a wave of jealousy overtake him—not that he thought Luther had a chance with her—but for the mere fact that the boy could dance with her, feel her warmth, smell her intoxicating fragrance, while _he_, her supposed teacher, could not.

"Nice to see Luther coming out of his shell a little," commented Hightower close to his ear.

"Yeah. Good for him."

"That new girl was nice to dance with him."  
"Yes," said Jane, but he couldn't trust himself to comment further.

Just as the song wound down with a crescendo of blended voices, Jane noted the arrival of Lorelei Martins. She was dressed all in black, from her tight cat suit to her leather jacket and high-heeled boots. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, large silver hoop earrings dangling nearly to her shoulders. She made a beeline for the boys' locker room, which had a distinct sign on it stating: _No Entry._ The door was actually supposed to be locked during the dance to discourage inappropriate assignations, but apparently someone had put something in the door frame to prevent it from closing fully. Lorelei stood casually near the door for a moment, watching to see if anyone was watching her. Suddenly, everyone yelled in excitement as the music beckoned them to "Come and Ride the Train." In the midst of the mass exodus to the dance floor, Lorelei slipped inside the locker room.

Lisbon had seen her too, and she met Jane's eyes across the crowd. He slightly inclined his head toward the lobby; he must know another way in. Lisbon tried in vain to catch Cho's attention, but without making a scene or running up to him, that was impossible at the moment, and she didn't want to miss what Lorelei was up to. She headed toward the lobby to see what Jane had in mind.

"Excuse me," Jane said to Hightower. "Nature calls."

This of course would mean to her that he was skipping out to the faculty restroom.

"Don't be long," she told him. "Looks like Kristina's been puffing those funny cigarettes in the parking lot again."

He glanced at the tarp-covered floor to see Mrs. Frye, dancing to her own tune amidst the teenagers, who laughed and pointed at the drama teacher's antics. Good thing Bertram had already left.

In the empty lobby, beyond the student-manned ticket counter, Jane met Lisbon.

"This way," he said, and they went to a door marked _Coaches_ to the right of the trophy cases. He pulled out his key ring from his slacks pocket and slipped a master key into the lock. Lisbon wondered vaguely how he would have gotten hold of such a valuable tool. The pair soon found themselves inside the darkened coaches' office, and it was only a matter of passing through it to another door to enter the boys' locker room.

Jane took Lisbon's hand to better guide her through the darkness. Lisbon wrinkled her nose at the pungent scents of sweat, rubber, and muscle rub assaulting their nostrils. They hadn't tiptoed far before they could hear whispering voices. Jane squeezed Lisbon's hand to warn her to silence.

"I've got your shit, Dumar," Lorelei was saying. "Now give me the money right now, or I'll break your fuckin' kneecaps."

They could hear the gentle slap of an aluminum baseball bat against a small hand.

"Come on, baby, how about a kiss instead?"

They heard the distinct sound of the bat whizzing through the air, then making contact with some part of the unfortunate guy's anatomy.

"Jesus! You crazy bitch!" he cried in agony. The pounding of the music would have blotted out his cries to everyone in the gym.

On the other side of a row of lockers, Lisbon pulled on Jane's hand as she instinctively moved to help the injured man. But Jane held her fast and pulled her against his chest, breathing one word in her ear: "Wait."

"Now give me the goddamn cash before I bash your brains in," Lorelei was saying, her voice low and deadly.

"This had better be good stuff," said Dumar, with a cry in his voice.

He must have handed his payment over, for the threats ended, and there was the faint rustle of what sounded like cash being exchanged.

"Now, get the hell out of here," Lorelei practically growled. "And this is a one-time deal, understand? I don't want to see your sorry ass ever again."

Dumar grunted an affirmative, and he shuffled agonizingly back to the gym door. The music grew louder as the door opened, and then it grew muffled again as it shut again quietly.

They could sense Lorelei's continued presence, likely waiting for a few minutes, peering out the crack of the door until she could escape unnoticed. Lisbon was painfully aware that she wasn't armed, and wondered vaguely if she could overpower the young woman who seemed to wield a bat like Sammy Sosa.

Lisbon stood before Jane, his warm breath on the back of her neck. She gritted her teeth so he wouldn't feel her shiver in reaction. His hand still held hers, and she felt his touch all the way up her arm, heating her body with awareness. She was trying to pay attention to the violent scene on the other side of the lockers, but his closeness was fogging her brain. As she moved to step away, her heal caught on something on the floor, and she stumbled a little, an involuntary gasp escaping from her lips as she turned her ankle painfully. Jane prevented her from falling, but the damage was done.

"Who's in here?" demanded Lorelei Martins.

A burst of adrenaline brought Lisbon to her senses, and with a high-pitched giggle she barely recognized as her own, she pushed Jane back into the shadowed wall away from the lockers. Praying he would understand her motivations, she pulled his head down until their lips collided. In the glowing red light of the Exit sign, Lorelei found what Lisbon hoped appeared to be an amorous couple making out in the most private place they could find. Lisbon did her best to shield Jane with her body, practically crawling up him in an attempt to hide his identity, her hands on his cheeks as she gave an exaggerated moan of desire.

Lisbon feared at any moment she would feel the pain of a bat to the back of her head, but, except for a muttered, "Shit," and the retreating click of high heels on the tiled floor, she sensed nothing more. She and Jane were suddenly and completely alone, and his lips were still pressed to hers.

They both realized Lorelei was gone at the same time, and when Lisbon would have released him, Jane had other ideas. She dropped her hands, but his rose to her hair, his fingers sliding through the silky strands to hold her head still. A protest rose to her lips as she realized his intent, but then his mouth was molding to hers and she lost the will to deny him anything.

Jane had never been so taken by surprise as when Teresa Lisbon pushed him against the wall and proceeded to kiss the daylights out of him. His brain had uncharacteristically shut down at the initial moist warmth of her lips, and he merely stood there, stunned, allowing her to play her part. But his body reacted to hers so instantly it was almost embarrassing, her lithe frame within that sensual fabric pushing and sliding against him.

But now that his brain had finally caught up with his desire, he ravaged her mouth mercilessly, dipping his tongue between her lips, her profound sweetness making his knees go weak. It had been two years since he'd held a woman in his arms, and he'd forgotten how gloriously captivating it could be. It had been five years since he'd had his last first kiss; longer still since he'd first fallen in love. All of these things had occurred with Angela. But as he kissed Teresa Lisbon, Jane wasn't actually thinking of any of those things. He would later, however, when he was alone in his bed, analyzing what _this_ first without his wife had really meant.

Eager for more of her, Jane's lips left hers to follow the curve of her neck to her shoulder, where he rained open-mouthed kisses over her smooth collarbones. Her perfume was richest here, the warmth of her skin further enhancing the intoxicating scent of vanilla and myrrh.

Lisbon gasped and shivered beneath him, her hands going to his impossibly soft hair, holding him closer.

"Jane," she said on a sigh, as his mouth settled enticingly just above the lace at her cleavage. He licked the soft valley, and he felt her legs grow unsteady, her grip tightening on his head. His hot hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing across their hardened peaks. She emitted a low cry, coincidentally echoed by the students in the gym, as the beginning notes of "The Macarena" called more dancers to the floor. _The hits just kept coming_, thought Lisbon, amidst her sensual fog.

The noise was enough to bring Lisbon to her senses, however, and she struggled reluctantly to disengage from his embrace. But Jane's focus remained laser sharp.

"Jane," she said again, as reality settled over her. "She's…getting…away."

"Hmm?" His mouth was near her ear again, and she shivered in spite of herself. She pushed against his shoulders and was considering a well-placed stomp on his instep, when he lifted his head from her bosom.

"What?" he said dazedly. They were both puffing like freight trains.

"Lorelei Martins," she panted. "She and Dumar are getting away! I've got to go!"

Abruptly, he let her go, and she swayed a little before he reached out his own unsteady hand to hold her up.

"Go," he said. "I'll catch up."

It was very difficult to let her go, but despite the relative darkness of the gymnasium, he was in no condition to make an appearance before a couple hundred very observant teenagers.

He caught a last glimpse of Lisbon's wide eyes in the dim red light, saw that her lip gloss was hopelessly smeared, the hardened tips of her breasts clearly visible through her clinging dress.

He nearly reached out for her again, but then she was gone, following after Lorelei the same way she had left moments before.

Jane leaned back against the wall, dizzy with frustrated desire…along with something more he was unprepared to name.

**A/N: Phew! Poor Jane, lol. Thanks for reading! Would love to hear what you think. Please log in—I answer every signed review ;) More soon.**

**Also, I have started a new collaborative story with my old partner, waterbaby134, entitled "Eyes Like the Sea." It's posted under her name this time. Please check it out!**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you for the great reviews, from you guest reviewers as well. I do try to respond personally to your reviews, if you log in. More of everything in this chapter—mystery, romance, hopefully some humor. Please, read on!

**Chapter 5**

Lisbon pushed through the throngs of teenagers, cursing her small stature that wouldn't allow her to see over their heads, even in high heels. She stopped by the lobby entrance and the ticket counter.

"Did Lorelei Martins come past here?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah, like a black bat out of hell," said a girl Lisbon recognized from English class. "She didn't even bother to get a stamp to come back, and the dance just started."

Lisbon didn't bother with the stamp either.

"You'll have to pay to get back in!" she was warned, before running through the lobby to the main exit. Outside, in the cool night air, there were only the dim security lights from the parking lot shining in the darkness. She met Cho, who was talking on his police radio on the front curb. He shook his head at her. _No dice_.

"Well, let me know if you find her," he was saying to the patrolman on the other end.

_Roger that, _crackled the reply.

Cho lowered the radio and looked at Lisbon. "I saw Martins running out of here like someone was chasing her, so I tried to catch up to see what was going on. I didn't want to draw attention to myself, in case it was nothing, so I didn't get out here quickly enough. When I finally got past all the kids, she was gone and I didn't see which way she went. The patrol car is out looking for her."

"Did you see Dumar Tanner?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"No. Why?"

She explained to him what had happened in the locker room (minus the heated encounter with Patrick Jane).

"He probably has a broken knee cap," Lisbon said. "He must have limped out another exit. He couldn't have gone far, unless someone picked him up."

"Yeah. Why didn't you stop Martins?" It definitely came across as an accusation, and she really couldn't blame him. If she hadn't been so _preoccupied_ with Jane…

She was glad it was dark outside to hide her embarrassed flush. "I didn't want her to see me, so I uh, hid until I could blend in with the crowd."

Cho didn't look like he believed her, but he nodded once, letting her have the benefit of the doubt.

A thought occurred to Lisbon. "Well, where were _you_ when I followed Martins into the locker room? We were supposed to maintain a visual on each other."

Cho had the grace to look abashed. "Summer Edgecomb was giving me some more…information."

A group of students came out of the gym then, laughing and talking loudly, and Lisbon stepped further away from Cho, pointedly ignoring him, hoping she looked like she was waiting for someone.

"I'm going back in to look for Dumar. Maybe he didn't leave after all," said Cho after the kids were out of earshot.

"Okay."

At about this time, Jane came out of the gym. He looked cool and confident as ever, but his eyes burned into hers the moment he looked at her. She glance back at the rows of parked cars in self-preservation, and he stood at a polite distance, looking around as if he'd just come out to check on the parking lot, as a good chaperone would.

"She got away," said Lisbon. "Do you know her mother's name and address so we can go to her home?"

"I made some discreet inquiries," he said, but he'd actually snuck into the Dean's office and lifted Lorelei's files, along with those of the three students present when Drew Martins overdosed. "Her mother is Dana Martins. Not a good home situation, Madeleine Hightower told me: drug abuse, lots of _uncles _for Lorelei."

"Okay. I'll call my boss, tell them to send a patrol car over in case she shows up there," she said, then moved toward the pay phone beneath the gym's portico.

"Teresa," he began, his serious tone stopping her. "About what happened in the locker room—"

"I was trying to protect you," she said, before he could finish.

His eyebrows rose at that. She wanted to hide her face, but she stood up straight and looked him directly in the eyes. "I didn't want you implicated as a police informant, or to be caught alone in the dark with a student. So I uh, improvised."

He grinned wryly. "You certainly did. So let me get this straight—you practically attacked me so no one would think I was having a tete-a-tete with a student?"

She swallowed at this, seeing his point—_now _anyway. "I was trying to hide your face and-well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

His grin was positively devilish, and he took a step toward her. "It did, indeed."

"And I didn't exactly _attack_ you," she said defensively. Then she realized he was teasing her, and flushed scarlet. "Just give me a damn quarter," she said, holding out her hand and feigning annoyance.

He reached into his slacks pocket and found some change, then tossed a coin to her. She caught it gratefully, and turned her back on him to punch in Bosco's direct office number.

"Boss, it's Lisbon."

"What's this I hear about your losing a subject at a high school dance?" he groused without preamble.

Bosco was speaking so loudly, Jane could clearly hear both sides of the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Boss. It was so crowded, I couldn't get to her in time. But she might have gone home. I don't think she realizes we were chasing her. She sold her drugs and hightailed it out of here."

"What's the address?"

"Her mother is Dana Martins, but I'm not sure of her address—" She turned back to Jane helplessly.

Jane spouted the number and street off the top of his head and she repeated it back to Bosco. _How the hell had he known that?_

Jane had memorized Lorelei's address from her file and stored it in the front room of his Memory Palace for easy access, but he was inordinately pleased at how impressed and grateful Lisbon seemed. He would find a way to work with that. He grinned anew at the delicious thought.

"Who was _that_?" asked Bosco suspiciously. The reception was very good at both ends, apparently.

"Uh, a teacher here at Bay Vista. He witnessed the deal too."

_Sorry, _she mouthed to Jane. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Dammit! Does he know who you are?"

She cringed, but tried to make her voice sound confident. "Yes, sir. I don't think I did anything wrong, sir—he's just amazingly observant."

"That's right, sir," Jane added loudly. "Don't blame her."

Lisbon waved her hand violently at him to make him shut up. His grin only widened.

"Well, I want you both in here at the station right now. Your teacher is now an official witness."

"Yes, sir. By the way, sir, you might want to send another car to the home of Dumar Tanner," she added sheepishly. "He's the kid who bought the drugs."

Bosco sighed in exasperation. "Address?"

Jane was happy to oblige.

"Anything else, Officer Lisbon?"

"No sir. I'll see you at the station, sir."

Bosco hung up so hard it made her jump.

Two more pairs of arriving students came from the parking lot, and Jane smiled and greeted them, while Lisbon did her best to melt into the shadows of the portico.

"We'll leave separately," she told him when they were alone again. "You know where the Bayview Police Station is?"

"Over on Williams?"

"Yes. I'll see you there."

As she walked toward the parking lot, Jane's incredibly seductive voice floated to her on the night air:

"By the way, that dress is amazing."

"Thanks," she called softly, too shy to look at him again.

But she felt his eyes on her gently swaying hips all the way to her Mustang.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Captain Bosco," said Lisbon nervously, "This is my English teacher—I mean, Mr. Jane teaches English at Bay Vista." She felt herself flush in embarrassment.

"Patrick Jane," he clarified for her, delighting in her rosy cheeks.

The two men shook hands.

"Officer Lisbon will take your statement," Bosco said.

"Have you found Lorelei or Dumar?" Jane asked.

"Not yet. But we will, I assure you."

"Hmm," said Jane doubtfully.

Bosco's eyes widened. "You don't think we will?"

"Not if they don't want to be found. These kids know how to lay low," said Jane.

Bosco crossed his arms over his considerable girth (he'd played football in college), and stood up straight—the better to tower over the slightly shorter Jane.

Jane smiled knowingly. He'd seen the way Bosco's eyes had roamed over Lisbon's sexy dress. Jane was apparently intruding on the older man's territory. He eyed Bosco's wedding ring disdainfully, his smile disappearing. No one valued the sanctity of marriage more than Patrick Jane.

"I'm sure your officers will do their best," Jane amended coldly.

"Count on it. Lisbon, take Mr. Jane to your desk for his statement."

"Yes, sir."

The moment they walked into the bullpen, a chorus of wolf whistles greeted Lisbon in her uncharacteristic evening attire.

"Hey, Lisbon," called one dark haired young man in a far corner, "I didn't know you'd started working Vice."

The rest of the cops laughed.

"Bite me, Mancini," she answered good-naturedly.

The men chuckled at her spunky rejoinder, a few slapping Mancini on the shoulder in encouragement to take her at her word. When Bosco peaked out of his office at the commotion, everyone hurriedly went about his business. While Jane saw that Lisbon felt part of the group because of their teasing, he had to fight the irrational urge to punch everyone who spoke of her or even looked at her the least bit inappropriately. Hypocritical he knew, but there it was.

"Have a seat." Lisbon directed Jane to the chair across from her desk.

They both sat down, then she opened a drawer for a form which she efficiently inserted into a typewriter on her desk.

She typed the preliminary information she already knew, pausing to ask his date of birth, address, and social security number.

"Now, tell me as clearly as possible what happened tonight in the gym."

He stated the events succinctly and accurately, and she dutifully typed every word—that is, until he got to the moment she kissed him.

"…and then Officer Lisbon pushed me up against a wall and had her wicked way with me."

Her eyes flew up from her typewriter.

"Jane!" she hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard him.

He continued, undaunted, speaking in the same serious monotone, although his eyes fairly sparkled. "In fact, she was so thorough that I was incapable of walking straight for at least…five—no, _ten_ minutes."

She stared daggers at him, but the delicate blush that moved from her face to her lovely décolletage belied her angry tone.

"Aren't you going to type that?" he prodded. "I was being as accurate as possible…"

She practically ripped the form out of the machine. "No, I think your statement is more than adequate. Sign here please." She slid the paper across her desk and handed him a ballpoint pen.

When he'd finished his signature with a dramatic flourish, she put the form in a file folder and left her desk without excusing herself.

Jane sat back in the uncomfortable chair and grinned.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"But sir, since you haven't caught Lorelei, I might be able to find out from the kids where she could be hiding."

"Your cover was blown, Lisbon," said Bosco early the next morning. "You're not stepping a foot back in that school, at least not disguised as a student."

Both of them were exhausted from the all-nighter, but too wired on coffee to even contemplate going home to sleep for a few hours. Jane had stayed at the station too, despite Lisbon's protest that he could do nothing more. He'd pretended to leave, but she'd found him sound asleep on the brown couch in the waiting area.

"Only Mr. Jane and Dean Bertram know who I really am," she said. "I'm sure of it. I've been very careful. Ask Cho. Mr. Jane, he's been trained to be observant. He made a living at it—"

"Oh, I pulled his information," Bosco announced. "Carney turned school teacher. Carneys tend to be pretty shady people, Officer Lisbon, in things for themselves." He sat back tiredly in his chair. "You know…I've heard tell teachers sometimes move drugs into schools."

"Well, not Jane!" she said vehemently, then her hand flew to her mouth at her insubordination. The wind left her sails immediately. "I'm sorry sir. It's just that, I've seen him in action, sir, and I know how much he cares for his students. And he had a wife and baby on the way before they were murdered."

"Yes," said Bosco, his eyes cold. "I read that too. He shot the guy in the back. Red John was leaving his house, not attacking Jane. Technically, it wasn't self defense. Under the law you can't shoot someone who's leaving your house. You can only shoot them when they are breaking in or threatening you or someone else. It was a vengeance kill, Lisbon, but the DA was sympathetic and didn't press charges."

She hadn't known the details of the situation, but still, she couldn't hold it against Jane for what he'd done.

"Red John was a serial killer," she stated boldly. "Justice was served." As she said the words, she wondered when she'd decided to think something outside the law was okay, but she found that if she were truly honest with herself, she was glad that Red John was no longer in this world.

Bosco stared at Lisbon as if seeing her for the first time. Then his good humor suddenly returned. "You're on your way to becoming one hell of a cop, Officer Lisbon. You've already figured out not everything is black and white."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Bosco contemplated her thoughtfully in her place across from his desk. Lisbon tried not to flinch or look away, though her heart was pounding. He nodded, as if deciding something and being happy with his decision.

"Go home, try to get a few hours of sleep. You have school in the morning."

Lisbon's face brightened, her dimples appearing, and Bosco found himself simply…beguiled. She rose to her feet.

"Thank you, sir. I promise you won't be disappointed. I'll get to the bottom of this."

"Good. I hope so," he warned, but it was difficult for the older man not to return her enthusiasm. He watched her leave, hating himself for being attracted to a subordinate, hating that he was married to a good woman he was no longer in love with. But Bosco was an honorable man and he would never stray, would never go back on his commitments. The pain in his heart was surprisingly sharp. He blamed the late-night Philly cheese-steak sandwich and chewed a handful of antacids from the large bottle in his drawer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey, Jane," Lisbon said to the sleeping man on the couch. He was using his own suit coat as a blanket. Her face softened. He'd waited for her.

"Hm?" he said, rolling over and looking at Lisbon. "What time is it?"

"It's four A.M.," she said softly. "Still no Lorelei or Dumar. I'm going home."

He sat up, his blonde curls in sexy disarray, his vest half-unbuttoned. She felt slightly star-struck at the picture he made.

"You still on the case?" he asked, sitting up stiffly and absently re-fastening his vest. Her gaze followed his nimble fingers in fascination.

"Yeah. So we should both go home and get some rest before school."

He yawned, covering his mouth. "I was sleeping here just fine," he teased.

"Yeah, I'll bet."

He reached up with both hands, hoping she would help him to his feet. Not that he needed it—he just wanted an excuse to touch her again. Lisbon glanced around the empty waiting area, then complied. At his touch, her skin burned, her pulse quickened. He stood before her, lacing his fingers with hers, looking down into wide green eyes. The noise of the nighttime station seemed to fade away, and she forgot where she was—for the second time that night.

"Teresa," he murmured, bending his head for a kiss.

It was at that moment that Cho walked by the waiting room. He'd been out looking for their suspects all night while Lisbon had manned the phones-she couldn't risk being seen investigating the case by someone from Bay Vista Academy. Cho paused when he saw Jane and Lisbon, frowned, but had no qualms about interrupting.

"We just got a 911 call. Dumar Tanner was found dead in an alley two blocks from his house. Apparent drug overdose."

"Dammit," said Jane softly, releasing Lisbon's hands. He stepped away from her a to a more appropriate distance.

"Another wasted life," said Lisbon sadly.

"And another thing," said Cho. "A kid from the school was reported missing by his parents. Todd Johnson."

Jane and Lisbon looked at each other.

"Johnson was the other boy that partied with Drew Martins," she said.

Jane turned his back on the two undercover officers and walked toward the glass partition separating them from the bullpen, one finger tapping his lips thoughtfully. He stared at the late-shift cops at their desks, typing out reports about the hookers, drunks, and muggers they'd arrested that night.

"She's getting revenge," said Jane suddenly, though his voice was as soft as before.

"You mean Lorelei Martins?" asked Cho.

Jane pivoted slowly back to face them. "Yes. Dumar and Todd were both present at her cousin's death. She likely holds them responsible. I'll bet you dollars to donuts that when the toxicology report on Dumar comes back, it'll be the same kind of meth that killed Drew, but probably even more potent. And we know where he got those drugs tonight."

Cho nodded. "That makes sense," he said. "Summer Edgecomb had been there too. Drew Martins had been afraid at first to try the ice, but they bullied him into it. Summer said she tried to get them to lay off, but Martins was trying to impress her."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "She might be telling the truth. It was a well-known fact that Drew had a thing for Summer. All-American boy falling for a party girl-it's the stuff of a John Hughes movie."

"Summer told me Dumar bought the meth and Johnson gave Drew Martins the lethal hit," added Cho. "But they got scared when Martins started seizing and they ran off and left him."

"To die," finished Lisbon. No wonder Lorelei was hell bent for vengeance.

"Tanner and Johnson threatened Summer if she told, but she gave an anonymous tip to the police—that's how they found Martins," Cho finished.

"Summer must like you, to share so much," Jane commented to Cho. Cho stiffened (even more than usual) but made no reply.

"You think Lorelei killed Todd Johnson too?" Lisbon asked Jane.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "The way she treated Dumar in the locker room, I'd say she's not opposed to a little torture first."

Lisbon remembered Lorelei's skill with the bat earlier, and mentally shuddered.

"Was the second student to overdose at the same party with Drew Martins and the others?" Lisbon wondered.

"I'm not sure," said Jane. He looked pointedly at Cho. "You might want to ask Summer that question."

"Krystal Markham, wasn't it?" said Lisbon.

"Yeah," said Cho.

Bosco came to the door of the waiting area. "Cho, Lisbon—you need to talk to your contacts at Bay Vista and find Lorelei Martins and Todd Johnson." His gaze flicked casually to the English teacher. "Still here, Jane?"

"Just trying to be of assistance," he said, barely controlling his smirk.

"Well, we appreciate your cooperation. But I think you'll be better served at the school, helping your students cope with the loss of another of their own."

Jane's eyes turned hard. "With all due respect, Captain Bosco, I won't tell you how to do your job—although I'm sure I could come up with a few suggestions—if you'll kindly not tell me how to do mine."

Bosco's answering smile didn't come close to reaching his eyes.

Lisbon was taken aback by the animosity simmering between the two men.

"At any rate," Bosco continued, choosing now to ignore Jane. "The shit's gonna hit the fan when this makes the morning news. A third student dead from the same school? Now, a boy missing? The people of this city are going to demand we catch those kids' suppliers. I'm sure Chief Minelli will be calling me any minute. I'll have to send a couple of detectives to the school to interview possible witnesses for appearances' sake, but I'm still counting on you and Cho to get back there in the morning and exploit your assets."

Jane chose to take issue with that. "No one's going to _exploit_ those kids-not even Lorelei-not on my watch."

"Don't get your apples in a twist, Teach. It's just an expression."

Lisbon instinctively reached out to give a warning touch to Jane's arm. Her movement didn't go unnoticed by Bosco, whose eyes turned to flint.

"We'll be back undercover tomorrow, sir," she reassured the captain. "And we'll be very compassionate with every student," she said to Jane.

Bosco smirked at her attempted diplomacy. He'd irked Jane, so he counted that as a win—at whatever strange game of one-upmanship they were playing.

"See that you do," he said, his eyes sweeping his young officers. Then he left them. Jane regained his composure and chose to forget about Bosco for the moment.

"I imagine there's a message waiting on my answering machine at home," said Jane. "There'll likely be an assembly to announce what's happened, then counselors will be called in for those kids that don't handle it well."

"I guess I'll have to be there," said Lisbon.

"Me too," said Cho. "I'm going back out to help in the search for Johnson. See you at the school later."

"Yes," agreed Lisbon. They watched Cho head back toward the elevator.

"I'll grab my things," said Lisbon, and head home myself. She yawned rather indelicately, apologizing through it; it was contagious, and Jane smiled over his.

"I'll wait for you," he told her.

"Okay," she said tiredly, but a mild thrill went through her at his offer.

Typical San Francisco fog had settled in overnight, they found, as Jane escorted Lisbon to her car. She wore his suit coat draped over her bare shoulders against the damp chill. They paused between her Mustang and his Citroen, the parking lot security light mottled and diffused above them. A police cars came and went, siren blaring, lights flashing, before disappearing into the fog.

"What's this weird, angry vibe between you and Bosco?" she asked suddenly.

Jane's mouth tightened into a straight line. "The man's got the hots for you, and he's married, that's what."

Lisbon's eyes widened in disbelief. "No, way," she said. "That's…no way."

"It's true, trust me. And that's why he hates me too, Teresa, though to be fair, he doesn't think much of me in general."

Was he implying that he, _Jane_, had the hots for _her_?

"Yes," he said, as if reading her mind. "I do too." He smiled, and reached for the lapels of his own jacket to pull her closer. "I can't stop thinking about that locker room," he murmured. "And I don't mean the smell of sweatsocks." His gentle smile grew wry.

Her heart beat erratically within her breast. She could say nothing, not with him standing so close, his breath redolent of station house tea and peppermint. She knew she shouldn't allow this—it was totally unprofessional. Sure, she'd initiated the kiss in the locker room earlier, but it had been to protect his identity, to save them from a beating with a bat.

"Stop thinking, Teresa," he said in mild amusement.

And then he took her lips.

This was not the awkward, nearly violent mating of mouths from before; this time, his incredible lips seduced hers slowly and deliberately. He brought one warm hand up to her chin, pulling down gently so that she opened for him. He tilted his head before his tongue slipped inside. She gasped into his mouth, incoherent noises of passion tearing from her throat, her arms now trapped by his coat while he held her tightly against his lean body. Unlike last time, Jane was clearly the one in control here, and she mindlessly submitted.

Another siren rent the night and Lisbon was startled into pulling away. Jane reluctantly let her go, but he was sorely tempted to suggest he follow her home and continue what they'd started. It shocked him that he should feel this way so quickly after only knowing her a few days.

"I'll uh, see you at school," she told him shakily, then awkwardly moved to her car.

"Be careful in this fog," he warned, finding, much to his surprise, that he was seriously concerned about her safety.

She smiled at his protectiveness, then waved as she shut her car door.

He watched her leave before getting into his Citroen, knowing there would be no sleeping this morning, especially when he remembered the feel of her lips beneath his, along with his last sight of her, still wearing his coat as she drove away.

**A/N: Just wanted to remind you that this takes place in 1996, back when the internet was just starting to take off and not everyone had a cell phone yet. It seems like only yesterday to me…**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, that it wasn't too bogged down by the case. Personally, I get easily bored with purely case fics, so I did try to make that the secondary story. Hope I succeeded. Thanks for reading, and please take a gander at my fic with waterbaby134, "Eyes Like the Sea." It's a fun way to pass the hiatus…**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic so far, for your wonderful reviews I fear I am very behind in answering. I appreciate them so much! I hope this chapter was worth the wait. By the way, toward the end of this chapter, it veers right smack into an "M" rating, so you've been warned.

**Chapter 6**

The weekend passed with Lisbon and Cho working alongside their fellow officers in an effort to track down Lorelei Martins and Todd Johnson, but to no avail. They didn't join in the questioning of students from the school so they wouldn't blow their cover, but none of the other cops or detectives could make any headway. They hit the same brick walls they had before with the deaths of the first two victims. At least there had been no additional bodies found.

After their searing kiss goodbye, Lisbon had found it difficult not to pick up the phone and call Jane. She'd tried to think of some lame excuse regarding the case, but she'd chickened out. He hadn't called her either, and so the doubt had set in, much like that early morning fog. She'd been doing a lot of pretending lately. Were those kisses Friday night based on real feelings, or had they both just been playing parts, getting too caught up in their roles?

The moment the first bell rang Monday morning at Bay View Academy, the students were herded into the gym. Lisbon sat beside Grace and Wayne in the bleachers and they looked down at center court, where a microphone and podium had been set up. Dean Bertram, along with the other faculty, were assembled on the gym floor, waiting quietly while all the students assembled.

"You ditched us Friday night," Grace whispered accusingly.

"Sorry," said Lisbon. "I suddenly felt sick, and I called my, uh, mom."

"Hmm," said Grace doubtfully, but didn't question Lisbon further.

Lisbon's gaze rested on Jane, who was standing somberly next to Madeleine Hightower. She whispered something to him, and he nodded, then looked up to catch Lisbon's eye. She felt like he'd physically touched her, and her breath caught, remembering their heated encounters. Maybe those feelings _were_ real—at least they had been to Lisbon. He looked perfectly composed and put together, unaffected, his suit dark today apropos to the mood of the school.

He looked away then, probably to hide his inappropriate regard of a "student."

Bertram approached the podium, the overhead lights glinting off his balding head. He tapped the microphone experimentally, then began to speak.

"Young men and women—I'm sure you know why we are here today. It is a sad day to add to the sad days we've already had all too often this year. While the police have not officially ruled on the cause of Dumar Tanner's untimely death, all evidence seems to point to that horrible disease that is plaguing our school, taking away our promising youth before their time. Drugs, young people. I join with the staff of Bay View Academy when I beg you all to stay away from this stuff. How many more deaths will have to occur before you decide to resist the pressure of your peers and just say no? Next time, it might be your best friend. Your brother. Your sister. Even you."

He paused, watching the rapt gaze of most of the student body, the jaded quietness of the rest. Lisbon caught Jane's quick eye roll before he averted them- Bertram was certainly laying it on thick. It probably had to do with the reporters who were seated on the front row.

"We will have counselors on hand for you to talk to if you need them, and the police are here too, if you have any information to offer about where Dumar might have gotten the drugs. They will also be questioning some of you, and I strongly advise you to cooperate fully. Our thoughts and prayers are with Dumar's family, and you may be excused tomorrow to attend the funeral. Thank you for your attention. Now, you may go on to your first hour class."

Before he left the podium, he looked the way of the journalists, and a man from the _San Francisco Chronicle_ flashed his camera.

Lisbon walked with Grace and Wayne out of the gym and to their lockers.

"Have you heard the rumors about Lorelei Martins?" she asked them tentatively.

"That she was the one who supplied Dumar?" said Wayne. "Yeah. I believe it. That girl is crazy scary." He gave an exaggerated shudder.

"Why would she do that, after her cousin died from a drug overdose?" asked Grace.

"Revenge?" said Wayne sagely. Lisbon looked sharply at the tall boy. He was very perceptive.

"Where'd you hear that?" Lisbon asked him.

Wayne shrugged. "Common sense, especially if Dumar was the one who gave Drew the drugs that killed him."

"Hey," said Grace, opening her locker. "I heard that Todd Johnson is missing too. You think that has anything to do with Lorelei?"

"Could be," said Wayne, leaning his arm on the locker next to hers.  
Hope he doesn't end up dead, like his pal, Dumar. Although, in the grand scheme of things, it wouldn't be much of a loss."

"Wayne!" chastised Grace. She looked around, hoping no one else had heard his insensitive comments, speaking ill of the dead.

Lisbon looked at the younger couple in wonder. The two of them had the makings of great future detectives.

Wayne and Grace snuck a quick kiss before the three of them went their separate ways, Lisbon heading to English class. She hadn't gone far when an announcement came over the intercom.

_Teresa Lisbon, please report to the dean's office. Teresa Lisbon._

She looked around in embarrassment, meeting Erica Flynn's eyes as they passed in the hallway. The girl smirked haughtily at Lisbon, who gave a casual shrug, though her pulse was racing at what awaited her in the office. Why would Bertram risk drawing attention to her like this, linking her with the dean's office?

She was surprised to see that Cho was already there, seated across from Bertram's large mahogany desk.

"Officer Lisbon," said the dean, remaining in his chair at her arrival. "Please, sit down."

She had the unpleasant feeling that she was genuinely in trouble, like every good kid's nightmare in high school. She looked at Cho, who shook his head slightly, which unfortunately told her nothing. She sat.

Bertram leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as he eyed the two police officers critically.

"I want to know why the hell I should let you both continue this ruse one day more, after what happened Friday night. Not here a week, and instead of getting to the bottom of things, another kid ends up dead? These deaths are a permanent blight upon the good name of Bay Vista, and I've seen absolutely nothing that you've done to stop these drugs from getting into this school. I think this little experiment must come to an end."

There was a beat while Bertram's words hung in the air, then, Cho broke the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry sir, but until Captain Bosco personally dismisses us from our duty here, we will continue on as before."

Bertram sat forward now, his face reddening in anger. "I've been trying to get hold of your illustrious captain for two days—he hasn't returned my calls. The fact that you have no support back at the police state emphasizes what I just—"

"He's in Sacramento," Lisbon interrupted, "at the Governor's Crime Summit. He won't be back until Wednesday. He told us to keep working our leads here."

Bertram raised skeptical eyebrows. "_Leads?_ You actually have _leads_?"

"Yeah," she replied. "The kids are talking to us. As a matter of fact, just this morning, I had two confirm what we had already figured out: Lorelei Martins is heavily involved in this."

_Well, that was sort of true._

"And any attempt you make to interfere, will be considered obstruction of an official police investigation, and you may be prosecuted to the full extent of the law," added Cho. "With all due respect…sir."

Lisbon tensed. She had no idea if what Cho said was correct, but it certainly sounded very official and more than a tad threatening. Her partner stared calmly at the furious Bertram, whose mouth worked silently a moment. The dean obviously couldn't abide anyone telling him what to do at _his_ school.

"Very well," he finally bit out. "But if there are no results soon, I fully intend to contact the mayor and the City Council regarding the ineptitude of the San Francisco Police Department."

"That's your right," Cho said. He rose, and Lisbon stood a moment later. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a job to do. Have a nice day."

Lisbon tried her best to emulate Cho's casual exit, but she was shaking inside as she walked through the outer office, nodded to the secretary, who handed her a class admit slip, and entered the empty hallway.

"Was what you said true?" she whispered to him before they parted.

Cho shrugged, and she saw a brief flash of humor in his eyes. "I have no idea."

Lisbon grinned and walked down the hall to her English class.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Jane had heard Teresa's name over the intercom, he had been instantly on alert. Had there been a break in the case? Was she in some sort of trouble? The classroom was dark and they were five minutes into the video he'd popped into the VCR, _The Life and Works of Oscar Wilde, _when the woman in question quietly opened his classroom door. Her eyes immediately sought his in the dim room, and she moved quickly to his desk.

"Everything okay?" he whispered gravely.

"Fine," she said, holding his gaze a weighted moment. When their fingers touched in the exchange of her tardy slip, a jolt passed between them, and Jane removed his hand quickly.

It had been difficult not to call her over the weekend. He kept reliving their kisses over and over again, the sensual memory keeping him awake even when he was past exhaustion. Then the old doubts had resurfaced—was it too soon to want someone? He still loved Angela. Still wore his wedding ring. That had to mean he couldn't possibly be ready to move on, right? He'd accepted that it was normal and natural to be attracted to a woman again—he was still a young man, still had needs. But kissing Teresa Lisbon had gone beyond need, and it was scaring the hell out of him. And so he'd brooded in his small apartment, only leaving because he'd run out of tea.

By Monday, with no word from either Lisbon or the SFPD, he was feeling a bit stir crazy. The news of Dumar's death had been all over the TV and the newspapers throughout the weekend, and the police department was certainly feeling the pressure. Captain Bosco appeared on the Saturday morning news, trying to reassure the affluent parents of Bay Vista's students that they were doing their best to keep their children safe. He had the department's finest detectives and officers working round the clock to solve this. Jane could personally vouch for that: Teresa Lisbon was certainly giving it her all.

Seeing her this morning had brought an instant calm to Jane, despite the fact that there had been no breaks in the case. He couldn't wait to talk to her alone, maybe settle things in his mind once and for all. He had to see if the excitement of the case, of working closely together with a beautiful woman was what had made her seem so compelling.

Right before class was over, Jane passed out their quizzes over _The Importance of Being Earnest._ Lisbon looked down at her grade—she'd made a _B._ It was all he could do not to smile as she frowned at her grade. At the bottom of the quiz, he'd impulsively jotted a quick note:

_Room 100, lunch period._

Lisbon folded the quiz primly, and slipped it inside her backpack without looking at him.

She would show up; he knew it. She would think he wanted to talk about Lorelei Martins or Todd Johnson. He did want to know if there was anything new and promising regarding the missing teens, but what Jane really had to know was if the weekend apart from her had dulled his attraction any. The brief touch of her hand seemed to confirm that it hadn't.

Beneath the cover of his desk, he slipped off his wedding band and dropped it into his suit coat pocket.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

After the bell rang for lunch, the halls cleared quickly as the students rushed to be the first in line in the cafeteria. It was pizza day. Lisbon ignored the growling of her stomach and made her way down the hall in the opposite direction, her heart beating loudly in her ears. For whatever reason, Jane wanted to see her alone.

She found Room 100, a door on the far end of the hall next to the custodian's closet. She'd only tapped lightly once before the door opened, and Jane pulled her inside, shutting it softly behind them. He slid a latch near the top of the doorframe. Even if someone had a key to the outside lock, they wouldn't be able to open the door.

She looked around the dim room, inhaling the unique, slightly musty smell of old books. It was a textbook storage room, she discovered, with shelves rising to the ceiling filled with classroom sets on every subject. There was very little space to walk between rows, but Jane took her hand and led her silently to the last row, behind which she was surprised to see a worn brown leather couch pushed up against the shelf-lined wall. There was just room enough to walk sideways in front of it. A naked lightbulb suspended from the ceiling with a pull chain attached, and an old ladder-back chair served as an end table, upon which sat an electric teakettle and a turquoise blue teacup. There was even a throw blanket folded in half across the back of the couch. There was also an overhead light fixture in the middle of the storage room, but Lisbon figured one would be able to see light emanating from beneath the door if it were turned on. Something told her the room's current occupant didn't want anyone to know when he was in here.

Jane had brought her to his secret hideout.

"Your man cave?" she asked with a small quirk of her lips.

He grinned. "Of a sort. I come here when I want peace and quiet."

"Aw," she said. "I'm honored you would allow me to enter your private abode."

"Please," he said. "Have a seat."

She sidled down the narrow passage and sat down on the surprisingly comfortable couch. From a nearby shelf Jane produced two plastic take-out boxes, along with small cartons of cafeteria milk.

"Bay Vista Academy cafeteria's best," he said, handing her a box. She opened it to discover a square slice of pepperoni pizza, a green salad, and half of an orange. She grinned up at him.

"Thank God," she said. "I'm starving. How did you manage this?" The pizza was still steaming.

"I have my ways," he said mysteriously, handing her a plastic fork and paper napkin from his pocket

He joined her on the couch and they dug in.

"The kids were right—this is fabulous," she commented, mouth half full.

"Pizza and homemade hot rolls are their specialty. To tell the truth, I have an in with the head cook. I remind her of her son, who's overseas in the Marine Corps. She sneaks me boxed meals out of the kitchen door so I don't have to wait in line. She didn't even blink when I asked for two today."

"Hmm," she said in appreciation. It probably helped that he was outrageously charming, but she left him to his delusions.

"What did you need to see me about?" she asked, sipping her milk. "Did you hear something about Lorelei Martins?"

His eyes went to her lips as she bit into the orange, and she blushed, then continued chewing self-consciously.

"No," he said absently, reaching out a napkin to wipe orange juice off the corner of her mouth. She swallowed convulsively, willing herself not to choke. He paused and met her wide green eyes. "I just wanted to see you alone."

"Oh." She could literally think of nothing else to say.

They continued eating their lunches in charged silence, Jane mostly watching her as she took each dainty bite. A warm glow had entered his sea-green eyes when he looked at her, and it both thrilled and disconcerted her. She had some idea what he was thinking. They were alone here in this out-of-the-way room, locked inside, away from prying eyes. Attraction hummed between them, sparking and unpredictable as a downed power line. She knew as well as he that the moment they re-closed their empty lunch containers, they would be in each other's arms, and so they each vacillated between the desire to extend the buildup of tension or to hurriedly down the rest of their meal.

When she shut the lid, he took both their boxes and stacked them, along with their empty milk cartons, back on the shelf amidst _World History_ and _Introduction to Physics._ When he sat down again, he took her hands in his, then brought them up to his lips.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he told her huskily.

"You didn't call," she blurted, then flushed scarlet.

He grinned. "I didn't know what I'd say," he said honestly. "I mean, we've only known each other a few days…"

"It seems like much longer," she whispered, her pulse racing as he gently massaged her small hands with his thumbs.

"It does, doesn't it? Strange."

"Yes."

"You know what I've thought about the most?" he asked, scooting closer.

She shook her head.

"How your lips trembled beneath mine. How it felt to have your body pressed against me. How you made me feel like my heart would burst out of my chest."

One hand dropped hers, only to rest on her plaid-covered knee, cupping it like a man might cup a woman's breast. Her throat went dry.

He leaned his head closer, his eyelids at half-mast, and she felt the breath escape between her lips in quiet little pants as his face blocked out all other light.

"Teresa," he said softly, just before he kissed her. He could still taste the sweetness of the orange on her lips.

The kiss was tender and slow, much like that morning in the parking lot, but while this time she had something solid beneath her, she still felt dizzy with his nearness, like she was falling from a great height. For a moment she was paralyzed, pinned to the back of the couch like a captured butterfly, until he deepened the kiss and she involuntarily moved her hands to his shoulders. His hands fell to her waist, but before she had time to think, he had picked her up, moving so she straddled him, her knee digging into the soft couch on either side of his hips.

Her skirt splayed around him, and she could feel his desire pressing insistently against her panties. They both moaned. Jane reached shaking fingers to her white blouse, unbuttoning the tiny buttons until he revealed a delicate scrap of lace. Only then did he break their kiss. He looked up into her dazed eyes while he released her breasts to his warm hands. He leaned forward, pressing an open- mouthed kiss within her sweet smelling cleavage. She gasped when he found her hardened tips with his fingers, tugging and squeezing before easing the pain with his lips and tongue.

"Oh," she said, closing her eyes tightly against the sudden rush of pure pleasure. Her head fell back, and he feasted upon her perfectly shaped breasts, each in equal measure. She began writhing in abandon against his increasing hardness until finally he could take it no more.

"Sit up," he growled, and she raised mindlessly up on her knees again, her hands on his shoulders for support. He jerkily unbuckled his belt, then lowered his fly. He lifted his hips, pulling his pants down only far enough that his erection sprang free. His hands slid beneath her skirt, gliding up her bare thighs until he moved aside her panties at her crotch. He slipped his fingers inside the silky fabric, finding her more than ready. She shuddered around him, hot chills radiating through her body as he parted her, his thumb circling her hard little bud until she wanted to scream.

Lisbon heard the tear of delicate fabric as Jane pushed her panties impatiently out of the way. She lowered her body slowly down upon his, and he felt her heated tightness squeezing around him until he was fully sheathed within her. It felt so good, had been so long for him, that for a moment Jane felt like he was going to black out.

Then, without warning, she began to move.

Her skirt bunched between them, she raised up until she almost left him, then sat down again, achingly slowly, his breath hissing out as he once again went as deeply as he could possibly go inside her lithe body. She teased both of them in this way a few glorious times, before Jane took control once more, his hands on her waist to guide her movements, increasing her tempo while at the same time thrusting upward as hard as he dared.

Jane could feel himself sweating beneath his clothes, felt perspiration drip down his forehead and his cheeks in an effort to bring her release before he lost complete control himself. Fortunately he didn't have to hold back long, for with a sudden cry, Lisbon fell over the edge. Her internal contractions tightened her body further around him, bringing him along with her as he thrust harder still, his hands likely leaving bruises where they dug into her hips.

Trembling helplessly, drained of all energy, she fell forward onto his chest, listening to his ragged breathing, his head thrown back against the couch. They rested like this, still joined with her, until he found the strength to move her body off of his again. They both moaned through their residual tremors, through the incredible sensitivity that remained as they parted.

He found the rest of the napkins he'd taken from the cafeteria still in his suit coat pocket, and he helpfully held out a few to her while he cleaned himself up before zipping his slacks once more. She turned away in delayed embarrassment and he smiled at her sudden modesty.

_Once a Catholic girl…_

"I'm sorry," he told her, once she'd righted herself. "I didn't intend for that—no, I'm lying. I totally intended for that to happen. But I _am_ sorry, I mean, if you are."

She turned her head to look at him, her face still flushed a delicate pink, her lips swollen, her shaking hands attempting to button up her blouse as she spoke. "I'm not sorry," she said honestly.

He reached for her hand, and, just as this had begun only minutes before, he brought it to his lips to press a gentle kiss on her knuckles. He noticed her watch.

"The bell is going to ring in a few minutes. You should go out first."

But neither of them really wanted to leave their little cocoon amongst the books. She moved closer to him again, smoothing down his damp hair before she kissed him gently, sweetly.

"I'll see you after school," she told him, the light of sensual promise in her eyes.

"Will you?" he asked, suddenly serious.

"Yes."

She held onto his hand until she stretched their arms as far as they could, then, with a smile, and one last tug, he reluctantly let her go.

"By the way," she said, mischief in her eyes. "After all uh, _this_, don't you think I at least deserve an _A _on my quiz?"

A delighted laugh escaped him, and Jane had the heady feeling that this might just be much more than a lunch break quickie.

"_A-,_" he offered.

She smiled, her dimples beguiling him. "I'll take it."

He watched her leave then, heard her slide back the latch, then quietly turn the doorknob. He knew she paused to be sure the hallway was empty, then without another word, she slipped out of the room.

Jane waited until the bell rang, willing his pulse to return to normal, though each time he thought of what had just happened, each time he relived the feeling of her coming undone around him, his heart leapt, and he found he wanted her again. But he only had a moment to visit the faculty bathroom before his next class started, so he tucked his shirt more securely into his pants, turned off the light, and began an afternoon that he for the life of him couldn't remember later.

But neither of the lovers realized that someone had been hiding in an alcove just down, having an assignation of their own. She'd just sent her latest conquest on his way when Erika Flynn heard the nearby click of a door. She peaked around the corner to see none other than that new girl, Teresa something-or-other, emerge from Room 100 and slink down the hall in the opposite direction, toward the girls' bathroom. Far from ignorant of the ways of the world, Erica knew to wait. Sure enough, soon after the bell rang ending the lunch period, Mr. Jane came out of the same room Teresa had.

Erica gasped in spite of herself—very little shocked her—but then her grin spread slowly across her face, in a manner that someone once compared to the Grinch who stole Christmas.

**A/N: So I took a brief break from the plot-hope you don't mind. Even if I don't get the chance to reply, I really hope you take the time to review. I read, enjoy and am inspired by every one! Thank you :).**

**Also, a friendly reminder to please check out my other current fics, including the one-shot,"The Sum of His Parts," and my collaborative fic with waterbaby134, "Eyes Like the Sea." (You can find that one posted under her name.) Only one more week until the hiatus is over, people! I'm so excited!**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. A busy week at school, then an out-of-state trip has kept me from writing as much as I would like. But, as promised on Twitter, here is a new chapter. Thanks for your patience, and for the lovely reviews you have bestowed upon me. I appreciate every one.

Also, Happy Birthday to my friend and occasional writing partner, starry19!

**Chapter 7**

"Hey, Kimball," said Summer Edgecomb. She had crept up behind him in the hall after school after most of the students had departed. He sighed with relief as he saw the last of the obnoxious teens, laughing it up and horsing around the hallway—probably laying it on even thicker because the security guard was watching. Then, a husky, sensual voice had called his name.

Cho was startled, but as he was once known as the Iceman, he showed no outward reaction except a slight stiffening of his shoulders. He turned slowly to face the petite blonde.

"Hey," he greeted her simply.

As usual, it was her warm chocolate eyes that captivated him, the glint of mischief there beguiling him completely. But there was nowhere else he could safely look. Not at her tight white shirt, unbuttoned to expose a hint of rounded cleavage. Not her short plaid skirt that showed of her beautiful legs, legs he was sure could get him into some major trouble. He noticed all of this with a quick flick of his eyes, to which her Cheshire grin spread knowingly.

_Stop looking, _he told himself.

_She's only eighteen._

_Five years younger than you._

_You could never in a million years handle a girl like her._

She raised one dark eyebrow, obviously reading his thoughts. He felt an unfamiliar flush heat his cheeks.

So much for the Iceman.

To his consternation, Summer reached out for his hand and led him easily to the girls' restroom. He stopped short of allowing her to drag him inside.

"Wait," he managed belatedly. "What is it?"

She looked around, the first hint of fear clouding her face.

"I know where Lorelei is," she whispered.

He stared deeply into those velvet brown depths of her, ignoring the slight leap in his pulse as he did so. He was pretty good at detecting lies in people, and it wasn't just from his training—most of his talent came purely from instinct. From what he could see in Summer, she was telling the truth.

"Where?"

She hesitated, and Cho could see she was perhaps regretting her decision to be a rat. Understandable, he supposed.

"I wouldn't tell you, except I think she has Todd. Todd's not a bad guy, once you get past—"

"Where is she?" interrupted Cho with rare impatience.

She blanched, and he found he immediately regretted his harsh tone. He forced his features to soften—well, as much as he was capable.

"Where?" he repeated calmly.

She relaxed and he was glad to see her small smile return. "Her sister's adopted family has a cabin in the mountains. Her cousin Drew took us there to party before, trying to impress us, I guess. Dumar and some of his friends trashed the place, and Drew was really pissed off, but there was nothing he could do about it. Dumar was a real asshole. That was the first place I thought of, but I thought maybe the cops would find her around here."

"You know how to get there?"

"Yeah. I think so."

"You gonna tell your friends at the cop shop?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yeah. They'll know what to do."

Then her face grew serious again, and she reached out for his arm. "Be careful, Kimball. Lorelei is crazy. I can't even imagine what she might be doing to Todd."

He looked down at the small white hand on his large bicep, and he had the insane urge to envelope her in his arms and reassure her that everything would be all right.

"Don't worry," he said, which for Cho, was about as demonstrative as he could allow himself under the circumstances. "Thanks," he added.

Her hand lingered, and she practically caressed his muscled arm beneath his black security guard shirt. It felt to Cho like she'd branded him. She lowered her hand almost reluctantly, giving him a smoky eyed look of appreciation. Cho swallowed.

To cover his discomfort, he took a small notepad from the back of his trousers and retrieved a pen from his shirt pocket. He handed both to her. "Write down the directions," he ordered hoarsely.

She pressed the notebook against the wall next to the bathroom door, and with an amused smirk, began to write.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane had been hard-pressed to focus on teaching the rest of the day, with images of Lisbon, sitting above him, her round breasts undulating beneath her open blouse, seeming to appear before his eyes right in the middle of his lesson on Transcendentalism. Halfway through the excerpt of _Self Reliance, _he gave up and handed out a worksheet.

And so it continued until the final bell rang at three o'clock. His eyes flew to the door, expecting Lisbon to come in so they could make arrangements for part two of their tryst in the storage room. He was surprised to find that it was a different brunette at his door: Erica Flynn. Funny, he didn't even have her in class.

"Mr. Jane," she said, brushing past the last of the exiting students.

Jane didn't rise from his desk chair.

"Miss Flynn. How may I help you?"

She came in, her just-barely-regulation-length skirt swishing around her knees as her hips swayed suggestively. She held her Literature book to her chest, drawing his attention upward to her dark head, her pixie cut hairstyle emphasizing her lovely bone structure. Too bad her eyes were so emotionless and shark-like.

"Well…you have my boyfriend, Craig O'laughlin in your morning senior class, right?"

"Yes," he said, trying to read where this was going. She obviously wanted something, and was stealthily working her way around to it—or so she thought. He remembered at once that O'laughlin was failing his class, so he wouldn't be eligible to play in the championship game next week.

_Aw, she's come to plead his case. Sorry my dear…_

"I was wondering if you might reconsider his grade. I mean, he's only two percentage points away from passing. I know it would mean so much to him, and to the school…"

"I'm sorry, Erica. Craig is a smart kid, but he's lazy everywhere else but on the football field. He didn't turn in a final draft of his _Gulliver's Travels _essay. If he wants to play, he's going to have to put in some work like everybody else."

Erica stared at him blandly, considering. Then she moved closer to his desk and hopped upon it to sit casually, one bare leg crossing over her knee, then bouncing enticingly right near his face. She looked down at him now, the sweet, simpering expression long gone, replaced by the cunning determination of a she-wolf cornering her prey.

"Tell me, _Patrick_," she said, boldly emphasizing his given name. "What's in that little room next to the janitor's closet?"

Jane's blood turned to ice, but he forced his face to remain impassive. He ignored the flawlessly tanned skin, along with the cloying fragrance of Calvin Klein's _Obsession._

"A book storage room, I believe."

She nodded sagely. "That would be the perfect place to have a private little meeting, now wouldn't it?"

_So, it was to be blackmail. _

"You think you're being clever," he said calmly, "but you're not. Someday you'll become the cold, calculating woman you aspire to be, but not today."

She laughed softly, but the humor didn't reach her dark eyes. "You grown-ups—such hypocrites. You tell us you're preparing us to be good _citizens of the world_ or some such crap, and here _you_ are, banging a senior in high school." She made a sarcastic tsking sound. "I'll tell you what, _Patrick_, you're going to go to his coach, explain you made a mistake in your calculations, so Craig will be there to win the state championship for this school, or I'll tell your dirty little secret about Teresa whatever-her-name is to everyone who will listen. And they'll believe me, trust me on that."

Jane eyed her, gauging her sincerity. She meant what she said; no tell gave away she was blushing. He considered a moment the damage that this spiteful girl could do to his career. Even though he hadn't actually had sex with a student, it had been very improper of him to have sex at all at the school.

When the case was over, and it was announced to the public that it was partly solved by undercover agents, he of course would be cleared of wrongdoing, but his reputation would be permanently soiled, and some might even call for his resignation to hush everything up and save the school's reputation. Bertram was all about reputation.

"You saw nothing," he said, testing her mettle. "You have no proof of anything."

She shrugged. "I saw enough. And I wonder how careless you were about DNA evidence," she countered, a serpentine smile on her face. "Besides, sometimes gossip is enough to get someone fired, or so I've heard."

Well, she had him there. She was attempting to stare him down, unafraid. A teenage boy would have withered under that gaze. But Jane was no boy.

"You know," he ventured thoughtfully. "It works both ways, my dear. Suppose I spread a different kind of rumor…about _you_." He stood then, annoyed that she was so tall with those high-heeled Mary Janes she was wearing. He would have liked to emphasize his point by towering over her.

She raised a cool eyebrow, but he'd caught a brief glimpse of fear in her face before her mask dropped again.

"Suppose I put it out there that _you_, in fact, were the girl I slept with, that you said it was Miss Lisbon because you were jealous. I imagine that kind of impropriety on your behalf would warrant expulsion from Bay Vista, wouldn't you think?"

"You wouldn't," she gasped.

"Try me," he said, deadly serious.

Then, she laughed. "I could find another school to take me—my daddy's money talks very loudly. Good luck finding a school, even a _public_ one, that would hire a pervy English teacher. You're bluffing, Mr. Jane."

"Try me," he repeated.

Jane knew in his heart that his will was much stronger than this young woman's. What he'd seen, what he'd lived through and survived—this girl had no chance against him. He could start over again somewhere else. It wasn't as if he hadn't done it several times in his life already.

Erica took a step toward him. "You know," she said, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek seductively. "There are other ways you could pay for my silence…"

He grabbed her wrist gently but firmly. "Not for all the Earl Grey in England," he said blandly.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon was just finishing her run for track when Cho drove up beside her in his unmarked squad car. She stopped as he rolled down his window.

"I got a lead," he said without preamble. "I was just going to look for you."

He told her about Summer's supposition.

"You believe her?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I called Bosco. He said they're in the middle of a man hunt for a guy who just shot two people in the process of robbing a bank. Took a kid hostage. Bosco said we could either wait until he could spare some backup, or we could go up to the cabin and make the arrest ourselves."

The two young officers looked at each other. It would be their first arrest without a supervising officer present.

"Let me run into the school and get my stuff. Give me five minutes."

"Okay," said Cho, a brief smile dimpling his cheeks. "Hurry."

She took off at a run again, while Cho parked in the parking lot. She entered the building, but before sprinting to her locker, she made a beeline for Jane's classroom. Her stomach clenched thinking she would be missing out on the promise in his eyes from earlier, but she knew he would be pleased they had a good lead on Lorelei Martins.

Erica Flynn was just leaving the empty classroom, and she looked down her pert nose at Lisbon.

"Slut," she muttered under her breath, before sashaying down the hallway. Lisbon looked startled for a moment at the insult, then, eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, she entered Jane's room.

His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he immediately crossed the room, locking the door before pushing her out of sight of the window to the hallway. Before she could say a word, he was kissing her passionately against the wall, his body straining against hers. She let his tongue slide into her mouth, and for a moment, they were back in Room 100, and she almost forgot how to breathe.

"I missed you," he murmured, dragging his lips from hers to whisper into her ear. She shivered, her fingers woven into his soft hair.

"Me too," she gasped, as his teeth latched onto her delicate earlobe. Then she remembered. "Cho," she said.

He pulled back immediately, his back stiff, eyes narrowed. "Cho?" he said tightly.

She laughed at his expression. "Sorry. No, Cho is waiting for me. We have a lead on Lorelei."

His face relaxed, but his eyes lost their sensual daze. "Where?"

"A cabin in the Sierras. Summer Edgecomb tipped him off, so we're heading up there to check it out."

"Just you and Cho?"

"We have guns," she said, a bit insulted by his doubtful expression.

"I'll come with you."

"No. This is an official police investigation. You'll just be in the way."

"If she's there, I might be able to get through to her—a familiar face. Maybe I could prevent this from ending badly."

She frowned. "Cho and I can handle it. We certainly will do our best to avoid anyone being hurt. This is what we're trained to do."

"Have you ever done this alone?" he asked, and she was annoyed once more by his keen ability to read her.

"Yes."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she blushed sheepishly.

"Well, not by ourselves. But she's a high school girl, Jane. How dangerous could she be?"

"You obviously don't know many scorned high school girls. Look, she's probably killed two people already—you saw her handiwork with a baseball bat. I can't believe Bosco is sending you two by yourselves."

Lisbon was rapidly approaching anger now. "He has faith in our abilities,"she said defensively. She attempted to extricate herself from his arms. "I gotta go. Cho is waiting for me."

His face softened as he pulled her back. "Wait. Come here."

She stared coldly up at him, and stood stiffly in his embrace. He could smell the faint scent of her citrusy perfume, mixed with clean perspiration from her recent run. She was still in her sweatpants and t-shirt, her short hair in a girlish ponytail, damp wisps at her nape. He felt the lust briefly override his concern.

"Teresa," he said softly, bending to kiss the firm line of her lips. It took a little coaxing, but in a few moments, she was kissing him back again, heedless of the passing of time.

"Cho," Jane said.

"Huh?" she replied vaguely, her lips finding the racing pulse in his neck. She felt his chuckle vibrate beneath her mouth.

"I thought you said Cho was waiting."

"Oh!" She moved away so suddenly he almost fell into the wall.

"Call me when you've got news," he said, worry filling his blue-green eyes.

"I will."

"And Teresa…be careful. A girl like her, blinded by vengeance—she's totally unpredictable."

"We'll be fine. Rain check about this evening?"

He gave her his sunniest smile. "Of course."

With one last look of longing, she unlocked his door and slipped out into the hall.

Jane's smile faltered as he watched her leave, a deep feeling of trepidation suffusing him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

With evening traffic, it took Cho and Lisbon about three hours to get into the mountains. Darkness was falling rapidly, and Cho sped up on the windy country road. At last they turned a corner, and the headlights lit up a small cabin at the end of a dead-end road, an old pickup parked beneath a carport. Cho turned off the lights immediately, then backed up slowly off the road and into the trees before killing the engine.

They could see no lights on inside the structure, but Lisbon and Cho got out of the car anyway, guns and flashlights drawn. With only a glance at each other in the dim twilight, they instinctively advanced in tandem upon the house as if they'd been working together for years. They peeped into windows, ducking down and expertly skirting the cabin. When the wooden porch creaked beneath Cho's feet, they stilled…and heard a muffled movement coming from inside the house.

Cho gestured toward the back door.

"Police!" He announced boldly. "Lorelei Martins, we know you're in there; open up!"

There was the same sound as before, only louder, more intense, but the door did not open. With a nod from Lisbon, Cho kicked it in. The wood splintered near the doorknob and swung violently inward, bumping hard against the inside wall. Adrenalin pumping, the two rookies entered the cabin with textbook precision. A room off the short hall led to a bedroom, and in the gray light from the window, they saw the outline of a body squirming on the bed.

Lisbon shone her flashlight, and they were looking upon the struggling figure of Todd Johnson. Each long limb was tied to a post on the bed as he lay spread eagle atop the bedclothes, a gag in his mouth. When he saw them, he screeched against his gag pleadingly.

Cho went to the younger man and removed the wad of fabric from his mouth.

"Where's Lorelei?"

"I don't know," he said. "She left about an hour ago. Can you fuckin' untie me, man? I'm dyin' here."

Lisbon directed her flashlight toward the door and located the light switch.

"No," said Cho. "Leave it off. We'll wait here and take her by surprise."

"Okay," Lisbon said, and began helping Cho untie Lorelei's victim by the light of their flashlights.

Up close, Lisbon could see that Johnson had apparently been badly beaten, his face mottled, one eye swollen shut. Dried blood flaked near his temple and at the corners of his mouth. He'd been allowed to lay in his own filth and he stunk to high heaven. He yelped in pain when they'd finished untying him, and Cho tried to help him sit up.

"Oh, Jesus," he hissed. "That bitch broke my kneecaps."

"Well, you'd better lay still then until we can get you an ambulance."

His eyes widened. "She'll be back anytime to finish me off," he whined. "Get me the hell out of here! That bitch is crazy!"

"You gave her cousin the drugs that killed him, didn't you?" Lisbon accused calmly.

"I didn't know that shit was bad, man, I swear."

"You ran away and left him to die though, didn't you," added Cho coldly.

"I freaked out—I'd never seen anyone react like that. I didn't want to get blamed for it."

"He died because of you," said Cho. "I'd feel like killing you too."

"No, please. I swear I'll confess everything. Just get me the fuck out of here before she gets back."

Lisbon went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. She thrust it out to him, and he managed to take it from her with both hands, gulping it down gratefully.

"Shh," said Lisbon suddenly. In the distance, they heard the crunching sound of tires on gravel.

"She's coming back," screeched Johnson in sheer terror.

"Shut up," said Cho. "Lay back down and stay quiet or I'll gag you again."

"No, please."

"Does she have any weapons?" Lisbon asked.

"She has a piece of rebar," he said with a shudder. "And…and a gun."

The boy began to weep uncontrollably, whereupon Cho stuffed the gag back in his mouth and pushed him back down on the bed in disgust. The boy grunted in pain. Cho pointed his own gun at him threateningly.

"Not a sound, or we're all dead," Cho warned. "Stay here."

Lisbon and Cho made their way quickly and quietly into the small living area, which was occupied by another bed and a few pieces of shabby living room furniture. They stationed themselves on either side of the door, Cho's hand on the light switch. Outside, they heard the sound of a car door opening. Then a second one, and a third. _Three _occupants? As if confirming this, three voices, one Lorelei's, one that of an unknown female, and the third-a man's-was very, horrifyingly familiar.

"Bertram!" Lisbon and Cho hissed together.

This was not going to be as easy as they'd expected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By ten o'clock that night, Jane was decidedly antsy. He paced in his small apartment, running agitated fingers through his haphazard curls.

_Where the hell was she?_

Lisbon hadn't called, and Jane hung up from his second call to the police station in disgust. The first time, Bosco had been unavailable, but the nice officer he spoke to said she'd pass on his concerns to the captain. The second time, he demanded to speak to Bosco personally, and was surprised when he was patched right through. It was all in the tone, he supposed.

"Mr. Jane. What can I do for you?" the older man had asked, his voice laced with a pinch of condescension and a huge helping of sarcasm.

"Have you heard from Teresa Lisbon?"

"She's on a case, Mr. Jane. I can't talk about it with you, I'm afraid."

"Well, I think she's in danger, and maybe you should really send some backup up to that cabin where she thinks Lorelei Martins is hiding out."

"Have you been watching the news, Mr. Jane?" he said irately.

Jane had, hoping for the breaking story that the Bay Vista drug supplier had been apprehended. He'd even borrowed his busybody neighbor's police scanner, but the cops were still completely involved in tracking the bank robber/kidnapper, who was still on the run. No mention anywhere of Lisbon or Cho.

"Yeah, and I appreciate your situation, but Lisbon—"

"Will be fine. It's a long drive up to the mountains, Mr. Jane. We probably haven't heard anything because it was a dead end. I'm sure they'll be dragging their sorry asses back into the station in no time, which is good, because I could really use a few extra hands right now. I'll pass on your message."

"But I really think—"  
"Good night, Mr. Jane."

The bastard had hung up on him.

Jane slammed down the phone angrily. He paced a few minutes more, before deciding to take matters into his own hands. He opened his desk drawer beneath the phone and withdrew his Bay Vista Faculty Guide. Inside, he found the address of the Assistant Dean, Brenda Shettrick.

After committing the address to memory, he went into his bedroom and took a handgun from his bedside table—the same gun he'd used to kill Red John. His hand shook a little as he remembered that night two years ago. He'd come home to find his door unlocked, every light in the house off. He remembered nearly tripping over Charlotte's tricycle, and then, a feeling of intense dread had filled him—much like what he was feeling now about Lisbon-when from upstairs had come a muffled scream.

_Angela._

He didn't know to this day what had stopped him from yelling her name, but something had compelled him to pad silently to the wall safe behind their family portrait and get the gun he'd kept there for emergencies. He'd had one since his carnie days, when one could never be too careful about self-protection among questionable company.

It was quiet at the top of the stairs, and Jane remembered how his hand had shaken then too, his heart pumping, cold sweat gathering at his brow, and under his arms, terrified beyond words of what he might find. Slowly, Jane had walked up the stairs…

He shook his head as the horrifying images flashed in his mind, pushing them resolutely away. He didn't have time to relive the past. Teresa needed him _now_.

Jane shoved the gun into his suit coat pocket and left his apartment.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Brenda Shettrick's Nob Hill house was still well-lit, even at ten thirty on a school night. Jane walked up the front steps and rang the bell by the red door. He felt himself appraised through the peephole before the Assistant Dean unbolted the door and looked upon him in surprise, wrapping her robe more closely about her slim frame.

"Mr. Jane? What are you doing here?"

He nodded politely, but felt the urgency overwhelm the necessity of small talk, felt the weight of his gun in his pocket.

"I'm sorry it's so late, Brenda. But I was wondering if I could speak to Summer on an important school matter?"

"Summer?" she said dully.

"Yes. I don't mean to pry, but well, I heard you and Summer's mother were partners, so I assumed she would be here too…"

Brenda flushed. She was a private person. Not many new of her personal life, though she supposed Summer must have told her friends about her living situation.

"Summer's in bed, Mr. Jane. It's a school night."

"Who's at the door, Brenda?" came a feminine voice from the beautiful home's inner recesses. A dark-haired woman appeared beside Shettrick, she too dressed modestly for bed.

"A teacher from the school," Ms. Shettrick explained. "He needed to talk to Summer, but I told him it was too late."

"What's this about?" asked Summer's mother, her accent mildly New York Italian, and Jane guessed rightly that with Brenda, she'd come up quite far in the world. Mrs. Edgecomb's eyes narrowed on the blond man standing so earnestly on their stoop.

Jane knew at that moment there was no way Summer would be allowed to speak with him this night, and so he counted on the fact that she must be in the house somewhere, intently listening.

"It's about a term paper she was doing, on the Rudyard Kipling character, _Kimball_—" here he raised his voice noticeably for emphasis—"I really needed that final draft, or she would be in great _danger_ of failing."

Ms. Shettrick looked at him skeptically. "It can wait until tomorrow, I think. Are you often in the habit of showing up late at students' homes to talk to them about term papers?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "When there is a _problem_. I really care about these kids. I want them to do their best."

"Well, I'll give her the message, Mr. Jane," said Mrs. Edgecomb, apparently touched by his concern. "Summer has been trying to get herself together here, and Brenda was kind enough to give her that chance at Bay Vista. I'll see to it that she finishes that essay."

"Thank you," said Jane. "Sorry to bother you both. Good night."

"Good night, Mr. Jane," said Ms. Shettrick. He had the distinct feeling his presence would be requested in her office the following morning, though hopefully by then he'd be able to tell her the truth, that Summer had been vital to locating and arresting Lorelei Martins.

The moment the door closed, Jane looked up to the third floor window. By the light of a street lamp, he could see Summer peaking at him through the curtains of her darkened room. She pointed toward the back of the house, then held up a hand, mouthing, _five minutes._

He nodded, then got into his Citroen, driving further up the steep street to drive around to the alley. He switched off the lights and parked behind the Shettrick home, turning off the engine to wait. Eight minutes later, Summer came out of the back door, then rushed up to Jane's window. He rolled the manual handle down hastily.

"I need you to take me to Lorelei's cabin," he said without preamble.

"What? Why? Is Kimball okay?" She didn't even question how he knew all this.

"I don't know," Jane said. "He went up there with another officer, but they haven't been heard from since right after school. The cops are so caught up in this bank robber thing, they won't send anyone up there to help."

"I can tell you how to get there—" she offered.

"_Show_ me. I can't afford to get lost and make a mistake in the dark. This is a matter of life and death, you understand."

Summer looked back at the house worriedly. "But my mom—"

"We'll explain everything to her later. Besides, you pretended you were asleep when she came up there to check on you, right?"

"Yes."

"She won't even look for you until the morning."

"But—"

"Times a-wasting, Summer," he said urgently. "We might be their only hope."

He saw she was wavering.

"Get in," said Jane, his heart pounding.

She nodded, and quickly ran around to the passenger's side door.

**A/N: Hope this is still keeping your interest. This fic has turned into much more than I'd intended, but then, that often happens to me, lol. I hope you stick around for the ride. Now, I'll start work on the next chapter of "Eyes Like the Sun." Thanks in advance if you decide to honor me with a review.**


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